TOV
by Ikeda Rose
Summary: This version of my Thekka fanfic is officially discontinued. Please refer to the second improved version. It is entitled Thekka. Thank you )
1. Prologue part 1

Ulvaey Greeneyes was pacing the ground outside his tent. He listened, furrowing his brow at the agonizing cries coming from inside. Behind him, a pawful of assorted Zahir hordebeasts looked on.

Ulvaey had been outside of the tent since very early that morning, when his mate had suddenly begun to have contractions. Of course, the old midwife and her helpers had immediately made him leave the tent, and he was beginning to get anxious. Though he had never seen the birthing of a kit, he hadn't expected it to take this long.

Suddenly, a young female ferret carrying a load of old cloths rushed past Ulvaey and into the tent. There were voices talking quickly, one final scream of anguish, and then silence. Ulvaey held his breath for a long moment. Then, he heard it: a newborn babe was crying. There were gasps, and whispers from the females inside of the tent. Ulvaey's brow furrowed, usure if the murmurings a good or bad sign. It was several before the tent flap was pushed aside Graila the old fox midwife emerged, the trinkets in her ears jangled quietly as she bowed to the warlord. Ulvaey looked at her.

"Well?" he asked impatiently

"My lord," the bent-backed fox said in a cracked voice, "you have a son."

Ulvaey closed his eyes and breathed too softly for any but himself to hear. After years of failing he had found a mate who had been able to bear him an heir.

"Let me see 'im,"

Graila bowed again and held back the tent flap for the russet-furred fox. Ulvaey entered the tent and surveyed the scene before him. There were five young females seated on the ground, three ferrets, a stoat, and a fox. One of them was dabbing the forehead of a tired looking vixen, Ulvaey's mate, Akal, who was lying on the floor of the tent, propped up by a pile of pillows and folded blankets. When Ulvaey entered, the five females bowed their heads respectfully. The warlord waved a paw at them and they left the tent with Graila. Akal opened her eyes as he came to kneel next to her, and smiled weakly. Her fur was damp with sweat and her breathing was shallow. In her paws was something small, wrapped loosely in a blanket; she unwrapped the bundle it so that Ulvaey could see. The normally stern looking warlord's features softened, and he put a paw on his wife's shoulder. A tiny foxbabe looked up at them from the bundle; his fur was the same russet tone as his father's and his bright green eyes were full of wonder.

"He has your eyes," Akal said, smiling. "Do you wish to hold him?"

The warlord nodded silently, and Akal handed him the precious bundle. Ulvaey's rough paws cradled the baby fox as gently as possible. He looked into the babe's eyes for a long while, his tattooed face smiling almost kindly. It was an expression that Akal had never seen before. Love and caring were things expected to be seen in a warlord.

Ulvaey looked down at his wife, and did something that he had never done with any of his former mates; he put his paw around Akal and kissed her on the forehead. The vixen smiled weakly. Perhaps the vixen seer, Uka, had seen something in her visions that she would be the bearer of Ulvaey's son. Whatever the reason, Akal cherished her husband's short embrace. Ulvaey pulled back and looked at the babe.

"He'll be strong," he predicted, "Like 'is sire and grandsire."

Ulvaey had ruled the Zahir for ten years, ever since his father's death during an ambush. The warlord had killed his own uncle in the process of declaring his leadership,and with his seer Uka at his side, there was little anybeast could do to stop him. Ulvaey matched his father for mercilessness and cruelty and did not tolerate conspirators among his horde. Any beast unlucky enough to be discovered was beaten without mercy, and then buried alive. A quiet voice pulled thye warlord from his memories.

"What shall he be called?" Akal asked, her breath growing shallower. Ulvaey thought for a moment.

"Uriun," he replied, looking down at the baby fox, who was now sleeping, calmly sucking on his paw.

"_Uriun,_" Akal breathed, "He-," she stopped and let out a shaky breath. There were tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," She choked, stroking the soft fur of Uriun's face. She tried kiss her tiny son, but couldn't find the strength. "I lo-," she choked. Her voice failed, and she sank back onto the blankets.

Ulvaey looked at his wife and watched as her limp paw fell from Uriun's face. Akal's brown eyes misted over in death, and then she was gone, never to look upon her son again. Ulvaey was too shocked to make any sound. Then he saw it: blood was beginning to seep through the blankets under her. Ulvaey put a paw on her face.

Just as she had brought him happiness, she was gone, snuffed out like a torch in the wind. Ulvaey looked down at his sleeping son, who would never know his mother, and yet was so peaceful. The fox warlord set him down gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping babe. He lifted Akal's body and hugged her to him. Ulvaey trembled and then, for one of the few times in his life, he cried.

* * *

Across the camp in a tent painted with strange and exotic symbols, the seer, Uka, tossed a handful of bones and feathers onto the ground. She closed her pale eyes and chanted in a low voice, moving her paws over the arrangement. Her head swayed slowly, making her heavily decorated cloak and the strings of bone, amber, and stones around her neck jangle quietly.

After a few moments, the seer opened her eyes and bowed her head. She had already foreseen this, but had withheld the predicament from her warlord. Akal was the only wife he had ever truly loved, and to know that he would lose her so soon would have upset him greatly. The seer sighed as she picked up the bones and feathers and put them back into a special eel skin bag. Then, she took her staff, fashioned from an knobbed pine branch and left her tent.

Uka made her way across the camp to Ulvaey Greeneyes' tent. As she approached, the crowd of Zahir vermin stood aside to let her pass. Many of them felt uneasy around the strange vixen, as if they feared she would put a curse or spell on them.

Uka stopped in front of the warlord's tent, and then entered. Once inside, she gazed at the russet furred warlord. Ulvaey was sitting next to the body of Akal, which was now covered with a blanket. His newborn son was cradled in his arms. The warlord looked up at Uka with narrowed, baleful eyes. The moistness of old tears stained the fur under them. He did not speak, but Uka knew better than to say anything. She was turning to leave, when Ulvaey spoke.

"Yew knew this would happen, didn't yew?" he said. His voice was low, cold as ice and as sharp as steel. "Yew knew that she was going ta die. Why didn't yew tell me?"

Uka was not sure quite how to answer. She began shakily.

"I-I did not want to upset you, my Lord-"

"At least I would 'ave had a chance to tell 'er I loved 'er, but now-," Ulvaey broke off for fear that he would start shouting and wake Uriun. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Uka watched with held breath. After a long moment, Ulvaey opened his eyes again. The angry fire in them had subsided. Uka glanced at him, not sure what to do or say. She had never known Ulvaey to truly love anybeast.

"Never mind," Ulvaey said "What's done is done. Akal's dead, there's no way to bring 'er back to life."

Uka was slightly confused; she had never heard Ulvaey talk like this. He was a creature who had no caring emotions. He concerned about the strategy of keeping his horde in line, not loving another creature. The seer took a chance and spoke.

"Who will raise him, my lord, since he no longer has a mother?" Immediately, she regretted asking and waited for Ulvaey to lose his temper. Instead, the warlord stood slowly and walked over to her.

"You will find a female to take care of 'im until he can walk an' talk on 'is own. Then, I'll raise him, and teach him of the Zahir. I have no knowledge of caring fer h'infants."

Uka nodded and then took Uriun from him, holding the sleeping babe gently

"I will give him to Saba," she said. "She will care for him."

Saba was Akal's cousin, a young female who had recently given birth to a baby vixen. Sadly, Saba's newborn had died not long after the birth, leaving the young vixen and her mate, Cuvan, without the joy of a little daughter. Uka knew it would be hard for the Saba to care for a babe that was not her own and then have to give him up when he was old enough, but no one would give him better care than a close relative. Ulvaey nodded.

"Very well," with that, he turned and strode out of the tent, throwing aside the flap with a flourish of his paw. He stood with his head held regally and addressed the now large crowd of hordebeasts.

"My mate 'as given me a son, and in doing so has died. We will burn 'er, this night on the ridge. By next full moon, we go south."

There was silence as the warlord finished speaking; nobeast moved. Ulvaey frowned

"Well, why are you all still here, you worthless maggots? Move yerselves; gather wood and bring it to the center of the camp, quick like! Find food and water for the journey. Git goin', now!"

There was a scuffle and much shoving as the vermin hurried to obey their leader. The warlord's face remained serious

"Baitpaw, Vini," two ferrets immediately appeared at Ulvaey's side.

"Yes m'lord?"

"Go and scout in the direction of the south coast; Return with a report before the full moon."

The two scouts put right paw on left shoulder in salute. The warlord turned on his heel and strode back into the tent. Uka stood there, holding little Uriun, who was crying softly.

The warlord walked over to the seer and ran a paw gently over the infant's head.

"Take 'im ta Saba," he said "I 'spect 'e's 'ungry by now." Uka bowed

"Yes, lord."

* * *

The funeral for Akal was simple, yet beautiful affair. For all the killing the Zahir did, they made up for it with their burial techniques.

While common hordebeasts were stuck with shallow or no graves, the funeral for a chief or a high standing creature was quite elaborate. It consisted of a wooden pyre, on which was laid the body of the deceased. No words were spoken at these funerals, but there would be a time of silence, after which the current chief or a relative of the deceased would walk to the pyre and set fire to it. Afterwards, the ashes would be gathered and buried.

And so it was with Akal, mate of Warlord Ulvaey Greeneyes, and mother of Uriun. The vixen's body was carried to the pyre by four strong ferrets. Akal looked beautiful; she was wearing a clean, white shift that reached all the way to her footpaws and spread over her body like water. Her fur had been washed and brushed so that it shown in the light from the torches held by several Zahir. Her paws were crossed over her chest, and a sprig of blooming heather had been placed between them.

As the ferrets walked to the pyre, there were quiet sobs from the few females in the horde, many of whom had come to love the quiet vixen. One of the loudest came from Saba, who was standing at the front of the assembled group, closest to the pyre. She was wearing a long black dress and had tied a piece of black mourning cloth over her left ear. In her arms was little Uriun, who was amusing himself while trying to reach the black cloth. Saba made a soft noise to quiet him and held him close. Her mate put a paw on her shoulder in comfort.

As the four ferrets reached the pyre, Ulvaey Greeneyes appeared from behind it. He made way for the ferrets to pass and then watched as they laid Akal's body on top of the wood. The creatures then retreated to the assembled group, where they stood stonefaced in silence. Ulvaey turned and gazed at the pyre; Akal looked so peaceful, as if she was merely sleeping.

There was the sudden sound of jangling trinkets, which signaled the arrival of Uka. She made her way over to the pyre. From the depths of her cloak, she produced a small amulet of dark onyx carved in the shape of a leaf and laid it across Akal's folded paws. The old vixen then bowed her head and stepped back; her acknowledgement was done.

Once she had moved, Ulvaey stepped forward; he stood to the side of the pyre and took a small knife from his belt. Carefully, he took a tuft of russet fur from his shoulder and sheared it off. The fur went under Uka's amulet. He took a torch from A rat standing close by handed Ulvaey a torch, which he ceremoniously put into the pile of wood. The sap filled wood crackled for a moment in the heat, and then produced a flame which grew, licking at the wood and oil until the pyre was ablaze.

Ulvaey stepped back from the flame and watched the pyre as it burned, sending embers into the air. His face was a mask. Even Akal's death had not made him weak; he was still the warlord of the Zahir, as ruthless as ever. The light from the flaming pyre made his green eyes flicker, casting a strange smoky shadow over his face; he was strong.

* * *

**How many times did I type the word 'pyre' ? Im gonna be saying it in my sleep now :)**

**Anyways, thanks for reading =)**


	2. Prologue part 2

** Part 2 of the prologue is finally finished! Hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer- **The lullaby that Graila sings is an old welsh song from 1879. The original song title is Under Yonder Oaken Tree, and the English lyrics were written by George Linley. I changed the lyrics a bit to fit the setting of the story, but it is mostly the same as the original. I don't own Redwall either.

* * *

**Prologue: Part 2**

Two weeks after Akal's funeral took place, the Zahir horde broke camp. Despite probable belief, owing to the appearance and nature of the horde, it was a surprisingly organized manner. Being a nomadic group, there were few possesions that could not be carried of one's back or pulled behind on a sledge.

When the horde was traveling, the warlord would be near the front with his generals. In front of them would be the lowest ranking hordebeasts; those who could easily be dispatched and replaced should the horde be attacked. Behind the warlord would be the rest of the fighting beasts, and then behind those would come the few females and the young, with a few armed beasts spread throughout them as protection.

It was here that Saba walked, a basket of blankets held in her paws, and little Uriun resting in a sling on her back. The young vixen had already come to love the little babe and was taking good care of him, just as Akal would. Saba missed her cousin. Akal had been like a sister to her, and had comforted with her when she and Cuvan had lost their newborn daughter, Makir. It was strange to think that she was gone.

Saba balanced the basket on her hip and wiped a paw across her brow. The summer sun beat down mercilessly on the horde, and the vixen was glad that she had covered Uriun's head; it would have been horrible if he were to die of heat stroke. Saba licked her dry lips and brought up her waterflask only to discover that it was bone dry. The vixen was confused at first, but then realized that she had forgotten to fill the flask before departing. Saba sighed in frustration. of all the days to forget to fill her water flask, it had to be this one. Now she would probably get heat stroke.

"Need some water?" Saba looked up to see Cuvan grinning down at her, a canteen held in his paw. The vixen nodded and took the flask from her mate. She took a long sip. The water down her parched throat, bringing instant relief.

"Thank you," she licked her moistened lips. Cuvan took the canteen it and gestured to her water flask.

"'Ere, gimme that," Saba handed him the flask and Cuvan filled it full from the canteen. "I need ta get back to the front," Cuvan said. "I'll find ya soon as we stop fer the night," he planted a rough kiss on the top of Saba's head and then trotted off.

The vixen smiled; she was lucky to have a mate who genuinely cared for her. Many of her friends had mates who couldn't have cared less about them. Sabachanged her grip on the basket and continued walking.

Around mid-day, the females of the horde stopped at a stream to refill water flasks. Saba was joined by her friends, Gressa and Kelal, two female ferrets the same age as her. Uriun was now awake and looking around from his place in the sling. At only two weeks ild, he was already curious about the world around him.

"Is 'e doin' well?" Kelal asked. Saba nodded

"Yes, he keeps squirming, eager little beast." She looked behind and grinned at Uriun. "I think you're tired of sitting still, aren't you?" The vixen undid the sling and carefully set Uriun on the ground. The little babe made curious squeaking noises, then rolled over on his side and crawled a little on the grass, green eyes wide with wonder.

"I 'ope I neva' 'ave one." Gressa stated. "Don't fink I coul 'andle it." She gave a gruff laugh that the other two joined in with. It was true, Saba could not picture Gressa as a mother. The ferret did not have the most caring personality and was quite lazy at times. Still, Saba made what friends with whom she could.

"I still caun't b'lieve tha' e's Ulvaey's son," Kelal said, "'E looks so carefree and li'tle. 'Ard t' fink tha' e'll be a warlord when 'e's all growed up."

Saba nodded. She wished so much that the little babe was hers, that she would be able to keep him as her own. In a mere matter of seasons, Ulvaey would take over and give him the makings of a warlord. Though thinking of it brought a pang of sadness to Saba's heart, the depressing feeling was soon brushed aside as the trio conversed, laughing and telling jokes. Suddenly, the vixen remembered that she needed to find Graila. She cast a glance around her at the other females, but the old vixen midwife was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Saba couldn't remember having seen her at all.

"Have either of you seen Graila?" She asked. Gressa and Kelal shook their heads.

"She's prob'ly gone an' fallen asleep un'a some tree," Gressa said with a brusque laugh.

However, at that very moment, Graila was not even with the horde. The midwife had slipped away and was currently making her way through thick, tangled undergrowth, following the creek north. Her breathing was labored and she was wheezing from the heavy, moist air of the summer. Twigs and thorns snagged the vixen's cloak. More than once, she stumbled and muttering out curses, nearly lost her grip on the small bundle that was clutched in her paws.

Despite this, the old vixen quickened her pace; she needed to finish her task she was left behind. Graila went a little farther and suddenly stumbled out of the shadow of the trees and onto a small, sandy bank. She doubled over and began to cough hoarsely. The noise spooked a wren, who then flew in alarm from his perch ina nearby oak. This in turn startled the old vixen and made her put a paw to her chest.

Graila stood still for moment, her breath the only sound besides the running creek. Then, the bundle in her paws moved and she remembered what she was holding it. Graila knelt on the bank, and set the bundle down gently. She carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a little fox babe with russet fur and mossy eyes. The little vixen blinked at the sudden light, and looked up at the old midwife sleepily. Graila smiled and lifted the babe close to nuzzle her head. The baby vixen made a muffled crying noise.

"Shhhh, sh, sh," said Graila. She began to hum an old lullaby, rocking the little fox back and forth to the gentle rhythm of the song.

_"Under yonder oaken tree whose branches oft me shaded, little creatures dance with glee when day's last beam hath faded. Then while the stars shine brightly, so airy, light and sprightly,'Till Chanticleer tell dawn is near, they trip it, trip it lightly._

_Yet no trace of them is seen when morning rays are glancing. Not one little pawprint on the green shows that they were dancing. Oh! Where are they abiding? In what lone valley hiding? Come next with me and we will see little creatures homewards gliding."_

Slowly, the tiny vixen stopped crying and began to fall asleep. Graila carefully laid her back down on the soft cloth, wrapping it around her. The tiny creature was so peaceful, so small and so full of memories. Still, those memories needed to be forgotten. For a single moment, Graila considered drowning the babe in the river, but she decided against it. Perhaps fortune would favor the little vixen and she would be found.

Graila moved the babe under the shade of an oak tree well away from the water. She glanced around quickly, making sure that no beast had seen her and looked at the babe one last time before disappearing into the dense foliage, never to return.

Alone now, the tiny vixen lay beneath the tall oak, sleeping peacefully. She was completely unaware of anything else but her dreams.

* * *

The summer sun stood high over Wrensong Creek. Birds warbled in the trees, serenading each other with sweet compositions. This particular morning, they were joined by an ottermaid who was making her way along the riverbank, humming to herself as she went. Her name was Kettu Streamgale, and she was heading toward her way back to her village, which lay about two miles up the creek.

The otter suddenly stopped humming as she came to a sandy bank. A bundle lay on the ground beneath a nearby oak tree; a crying bundle. Kettu rushed over and got quite a shock. Lying before her was baby vixen. Kettu was dumbfounded. What in the world was the babe doing here? She wasn't very old, maybe a few weeks or so, certainly not old enough to be left alone.

Kettu looked down at the ground around the babe. There were the tracks of a fox, a female from their size, that went off into the woods. Kettu studied the tracks carefully; they were no less than two days old. The babe had been abandoned recently. Suddenly the vixen made a little gurgling sound, causing the otter to look down at her. The little russet creature was staring at the otter with big, innocent eyes.

Almost immediately, Kettu's heart was filled with love and motherly instinct. She reached down and carefully picked up the tiny fox, cradling her gently. What kind of heartless beast would leave poor helpless babe to starve to death? Kettu looked into the vixen's eyes; they were a bright green, like new moss after a storm. That was strange in itself. Most foxes had some form of yellow or gold eyes, never green like this.

The babe suddenly let out a joyful squeal and reached up to try to to grab Kettu's whiskers. The otter smiled.

" Well, 'ello there little 'un. 'Ow did you get here?" Kettu knew it was silly to talk to a babe, but it brought her happiness just the same because she had no kits of her own back at the village, only her mate, Shad. The otter looked at the vixen for a long time. She wanted to much to have a child that she could love and care for. Perhaps this babe was the answer to her prayers. But what would the tribe think? While Shad would no doubt stand with her, Kettu was almost sure that the tribe elders would not approve of the vixen. Not all vermin creatures were bad through and though, were they? The vixen was small and innocent looking now, yes, but what would happen when she grew up? Kettu was torn. She couldn't very well leave the babe to die. No, she wouldn't.

"Don't you cry anymore," Kettu said. "From now on, I'm gonna look after ye," with that she turned and continued walking along the bank. She would be this creature's mother, no matter what was said. Every beast deserved a fair chance in life, and this little fox was no differant. Kettu would raise her the way all good mothers raised their kits. She would be the kindest, most well mannered vixen anybeast had ever met. Kettu hugged the babe to her as she walked.

* * *

"Absolutely not!"

As soon as Kettu returned to the village, a small group of elder otters had gathered in Shad's and her hut. One of them had just expressed his opinion of Kettu adopting the baby vixen quite forcefully. Shad raised a paw to the elder.

"Peace, Datu," he said, respectfully but firmly. "I'm sure my wife has a very good reason for her decision," he turned to Kettu. The ottermaid glanced at him and the scrutinized the assembled group.

"I couldn't just leave 'er , she woulda died."

"Better she die than terrorize us," one of the otters scoffed. Kettu gapped at him.

"I can't b'lieve you'd that," she said. "Yew sound no better than vermin ye'selves."

Several elders were taken aback by the comment, but Kettu kept her shoulders squared.

"I ain't askin' ya to take care of her ye'selves," she reasoned. "All I want to do is raise 'er as my own daughter," there was silence, and then one of the otters spoke. His tone was not angry, but admonishing.

"You know what vermin are like, Kettu," he said. "They have no caring feelings, no matter how big or small. You will see that when she grows up,"

Kettu swallowed and exhaled. "I refuse to believe that. If anything happens, I will take responsibility for it," she looked at Shad, hoping for his approval. He was the current leader of the village, and it was partly his decision. There was silence as the tall otter thought. He finally looked at the assembly.

"I agree with Kettu," he said. "If she wished to care for the young'un, I see no reason to deny her request." There was grumbling muttering among a few of the elders, but they all eventually agreed with Shad. one of them stopped and turned, fixing Kettu with a grave stare.

"Mark me, you be makin' a mistake bringing that babe 'ere. Vermin are vermin, they can't be changed by any amount of nurturing," Kettu returned his gaze.

"Well, ye may think that," she replied, "but yer wrong."

The otter scoffed and left the hut, leaving Shad and Kettu alone. The tall otter chieftain looked at his wife.

"Do you believe them?" Kettu said. Shad looked at the little vixen; her moss green eyes shone up at him curiously. The male smiled.

"No," he said, "I think you are right. What she is does not decide who she will be." Kettu smiled and rested her head on Shad's shoulder. "What are you gonna to call 'er?" the ottermaid thought for a while, and then smiled.

"Thekka."

* * *

**And so, we meet our title character...**


	3. Huckleberries

** This was the original beginning of the story when it was first posted, but when I wrote the part about Ulvaey, I realized that I was jumping all over with the time setting, so I reordered it. **

**Disclaimer: I own my characters and plot.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It was dawn. The sun was just beginning to peek over the tree tops, chasing away thin mist of the morning. Though it was early, Thekka Streamgale was already making her way through the holt village. The vixen carried a large gathering basket on her back. Kettu needed huckleberries, and she had a long way to walk.

Thekka liked being out in the morning. The ground was cool on her paws, and the stillness in the air was a welcome change from the normally bustling village. It wasn't that Thekka hated all of the hustle and bustle, but it sometimes became too much for her. It seemed that she wasn't as family oriented as the rest of the otters.

At the eastern end of the village, a narrow path twisted it's way down to the river. The Streamgale holt was layed out on a patch of high ground that was bordered on the south by a large side stream, a fork off the main stretch of Wren Song creek. It consisted of around thirty or so family groups, as well as a collection of passersby and others. Thekka's adoptive father, Shad, was the current overseer and chief of the village. He was a good leader; compassionate and aware of the feelings of others.

Thekka passed by by a stagnant stand of reed filled water. Frogs croaked from the cover of vegetation. A few more feet and the vixen came to the mudflats and the start of the marsh that surrounded half of the village. She skirted the masses of cattails and rushes, and the shrimp flats, then made her way through bushes and saplings until she came upon the fork in stream. Wrensong creek was actually a small river. It was about seven yards wide and was bordered by old, gnarled trees. Thekka stole quietly along the bank. The warm summer wind rifled through her russet fur and ruffled the edges her tunic as she made her way through the ferns.

True to the creek's name, the sweet voice wren filled the air. Thekka looked around , scanning the trees for the little bird. She finally spotted him sitting in the swaying branches of a twisted willow. The ancient tree's viney tendrils draped low in the slow moving water. Suddenly, the bird ceased in his joyful song and became completely still, crouching low to the tree branch in fear.

Thekka put a paw on the dagger that was stuck in her belt. Her sharp ears turned in all directions to catch the sound of breaking twigs or rustling ferns. She sniffed the air, but there was only the sweet, fresh smell of wildflowers. The sky was free of crows or falcons. What was the wren afraid of?

Suddenly, the bird looked right at her and Thekka realized that she was the cause of his sudden fear and silence.

The young vixen sighed in frustration. She hated when she was viewed as being dangerous. But what could she expect? She was a fox, and every beast knew that foxes were vermin and vermin were nothing but trouble. Thekka didn't want to be viewed as dangerous, but there really was nothing to be done about it. The vixen sighed and resumed her trek through the knee-deep ferns, pausing every so often to brush away low hanging branches and pesky flies. After a few minutes, she heard wren again. The danger was gone.

A normal fox would have probobly taken no interest in the wren at all, but Thekka was not a normal fox, at least, that was what she had learned over the years.  
She had been brought up in the ways of the Streamgale clan for as long as she could remember. As far as the vixen was concerned, Kettu and Shad were the only family she'd ever had. Thekka had often thought about who had left her beside the stream bank, but no matter how many times she'd asked, the answer was always the same: all Kettu knew about it was that the creature had been a female fox. Such a creature had never been seen again since Kettu had brought her back, or vermin of any kind for that matter.

As much as Thekka loved her adopted life in the Streamgale clan, she knew well that being a fox in a clan of otters had its disadvantages. Many of the older otters had disapproved of Kettu's adopting her. Thekka had often tried to show that she could be a kind and civil beast but even after all these years, many still did not totally trust her. When she was little, whenever things went missing mysteriously, or something else out of the ordinary happened, all eyes had immediately turned to Thekka as the prime suspect; most of the time, it hadn't even been her fault. Kettu always turned a deaf ear to every single word and told Thekka to do the same, but that didn't always stop the accusations…

_A much younger Thekka was walking along the mudflats with a basket of shrimp. As she came to the path, she noticed an ash walking stick half hidden in the underbrush. Thevixen put down her basket and picked up the stick. It was polished and carved with little leaves and curly cues. Thekka suddenly remembered that there was an old otter who had been ranting about somebeast hiding his walking cane. The young fox suddenly perked up; if she returned the stick, he would thank her, and everyone would see that she was a good beast after all. _

_Thekka fairly ran to the holt with the cane, completely forgetting her basket of shrimp. She went around the huts, and then nearly collided with the old otter she had been seeking. Thekka steadied herself and looked up at him with a smile. As soon as he saw the cane, the otter's eyes widened. Before Thekka could explain, he had grabbed the cane and smacked her over the shoulder with it._

"_Ya little thief!" he yelled, attracting the attention of half a dozen other Streamgale otters. "So you're the one who swiped my walkin' stick! Kettu won't have an excuse ta back ye up this time!" he smacked her again. Thekka was so shocked, both from the false accusation and the sting of the otter's blows that she didn't respond. She stood there gaping at the fuming otter before sprinting from the scene as fast as she could, running blindly through the holt. She raced past the forgotten shrimp basket, overturning it in the process, and kept running into to the woods as tears welled up in her eyes. _

_Why was she always blamed for things she hadn't done? Did being a vixen come with an assumed reputation for trouble? She knew she was different, but surely that wasn't an excuse to accuse her without any cause. Thekka never wanted to go back to the holt again. Oh, how she hated that old otter! _

_The young fox ran until her legs gave out from exhaustion and she stumbled over a root. She lay on the ground for a time before finally curling into a little ball against a gnarled maple tree. Tears came from her eyes in torrents, flowing freely like water from a broken beaver dam. _

_Thekka didn't know how long she cried, but the night soon came, surrounding her like a cloak, and filled with all manner of strange sounds and shadows. She was alone in the woods, lost and too scared to leave the safety of her tree trunk. _

_After what seemed like hours, she saw light through the leaves and heard a voice calling her. _

"_Thekka, Thekkaaaa!?" _

_The little vixen looked up with wide eyes; could it be? Yes, it was_

_Moments later , Kettu burst through the underbrush holding a lantern. She sighed in relief _

"_Oh, thank goodness! What in the world are you doing out here?" Thekka told her what had happened and Kettu pulled her into a tight otter hug, causing fresh tears to come to the vixen's eyes. _

"_You will always be my daughter," Kettu said, planting a rough kiss between Thekka's ears, "No matter what anyone else says. Now come on." _

_They made their way back to the village. When they returned, Kettu gave her some hot shrimp stew. Thekka felt much better after that. Shrimp stew was Kettu's cure-all. It could fix anything from a bad cold to a broken spirit..._

Thekka was so engrossed in her memory that she nearly collided with a low-hanging tree branch. She ducked at the last second and narrowly avoided a painful bruise. She paused for a moment to regain her balance, and then continued down the bank. A short while later, the tree line ended in open, grassy marshland.

Before her, on a sunny knoll at a bend in the creek lay hundreds of huckleberry bushes, thir branches heavy with sweet, blue fruit. their aroma was heavy in the air. Thekka splashed across the shallow creek and walked a little ways into the field of berry clad bushes, knowing that the best ones would be near the center. Kettu's plan was to make turnovers for the yearly clan gathering that was taking place in a few days. There wasn't an otter alive who could resist one of Kettu's famous huckleberry turnovers. Just thinking about the pastries made Thekka's mouth water.

The vixen reached a patch of berries that she deemed to be just ripe enough for picking. She sampled a few and smiled as the sweet juice wet her lips; they were excellent. Thekka took the large woven basket and began to fill it with huckleberries. Every so often, she would eat a few, but not too many. She didn't want to make the trek back on a full stomach.

As Thekka worked, the mid-morning sun beat down on her back. A warm, huckleberry scented breeze blew playfully through her fur. The basket was filled mush sooneer than expected. Thekka had never seen so many huckleberry bushes in one spot. The vixen stood up and re-shouldered the basket, making sure the ties were securely knotted. She quickly ate a few more berries and made her way out of the field. She washed her juice-stained paws and wiped them on her tunic before finding her trail back through the ferns. She needed to hurry; it was a long walk back, and she didn't want to be late for lunch.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Thekka reached the mudflats. The vixen adjusted the heavy basket and moved her shoulders around. The entire three miles back, the straps had been digging into her shoulders. She was relieved that she was almost home. Thekka brushed aside tree branches and reeds and decided to walk along the wide mudflats. The wet ground was soft and warm under her foot paws, and the sandy mud squelched between her toes. The creek drabbled quietly next to her flashing with tiny silver fish.

Thekka remembered when she was younger and would come here with Kettu to trap shrimp. She would always sink her toes into the mud and laugh because it tickled. Sometimes, she would scare tiny mud crabs from their homes in the wet ground and they would scurry around madly and make a break for the water. They were so funny to watch because they always ran sideways, some would move so fast that they tumbled over themselves. Kettu would tell her not to scare the crabs, but Thekka would be having too much fun; she would scare them when the ottermum wasn't looking.

Thekka had grown up since then, but she still found it fun to squeeze her toes in the mud. The vixen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The damp air smelled of soil and moss and huckleberries; it was the smell of summer. The birds singing in the trees and the laughing creek with its swaying trees made her smile; she could never imagine feeling at home anywhere else.

"Raaaah!"

Something lept from the cattails, making the vixen scream and jump away. Her friend Bluepaw took one look at her surprised face and burst out laughing. Thekka's look of surprise turned quickly to anger.

"You…rogue!" She sputtered. She began to hit Bluepaw, forcing the big otter to cease his mocking laughter. "Ya promised you wouldn't do that anymore!" She was forcing a frown now and trying not to laugh. Bluepaw grinned and dodged her flailing paws.

"I never promised you anything - ow! Hey, that one hurt."

The vixen grinned cheekily. "Good."

Bluepaw laughed and grinned down at her.

"Aw, come on, Thek, it was just a little scare, dat's all. Ya shoulda seen yer face!" The otter clutched his stomach as his laughter resumed. Thekka looked at him indignantly, paws akimbo.

"A little scare? You must be joking! I almost fell into the river!" Bluepaw laughed

"Naw, I woulda caught you… maybe."

Thekka smacked him hard on the arm. The tall otter put on a hurt face.

"Gah, not so hard, mate, I need these for the watersparring match tomorrow." He flexed his muscles impressively. Thekka wasn't convinced.

"Ya call those muscles?" she scoffed. "They look more like little twigs ta me."

"Oh, is that what ya really think? Well, they're strong enough to lift you." He wrapped his arms around the vixen, basket and all, and lifted her clear off the ground. "Not bad, eh?" Thekka rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright, now put me down."

Bluepaw chuckled and finally obliged. The vixen readjusted the straps of her basket. When Bluepaw saw it, he perked up .

"Whatcha got?" He asked eagerly, trying to see around Thekka's shoulder. the vixen shoved him away.

"That's none 'a your business."

Bluepaw made a sad face.

"Aw, come on, lemme see."

"No!"

"Wait.. you smell like huckleberries." His jaw dropped. "When'd yew get huckleberries!"

"That's where I've been all morning, yew great lump!" Thekka smirked. "And you don't get any because you scared me." She walked away, but Bluepaw caught her armHis voice took on a pleading tone.

"Aw, come on Thekka, I didn't mean to scare you, really I didn't"

"Right."

"Please, just a little handful?"

"No."

"Seven?"

"No."

"Five,"

"No."

"Three?"

"No."

"One; come on, Thekka, please?"

The vixen considered his plea.

"Hm…no. Now stop pesterin' me!"

"If I walk you back to the Holt, will you give me one?"

Thekka crossed her arms and considered the offer

"Maybe," she said finally. She shrugged. "Who knows, I might need protection against some terrifyin' beast that's a'waitin' ta scare me," she gave Bluepaw a look. The otter chuckled

"Don't worry, that's my job."

Thekka shoved him and they both laughed as they walked to the village.

Bluepaw had been Thekka's friend for as long as she could remember; ever since Kettu first took her to the mudflats. Though he had grown considerably since then, Thekka would always remember him best as a wild eyed kit who used to chase her with mud leeches until she got mad and and shoved him into the creek. She had always liked liked him because he was kind, and accepted her for who she was. He looked past the fact that she was a vixen and treated her like a fellow otter. Bluepaw was very good company to keep. He could always lighten up a moment with his joking personality, but he was also a shoulder to cry on if one was needed. There were plenty of times that Thekka had needed a shoulder to cry on. Bluepaw had always been there, ready to listen. The vixen was truly thankful to have him as a friend.

As the two creatures entered the village, they were met by two male otters with shrimp nets thrown over their shoulders. There names were Shora and Fen, and they were some of Bluepaw's friends.

"Oi, Bluepaw!" Shora waved a paw. "We're going out ta trap some shrimp, wanna come?" Bluepaw nodded

"Yeah, alright, mate, I'll meetcha there," Both otters nodded and then continued towards the mud flats. Thekka nudged Bluepaw.

"You coulda gone with them, mate. You don't have ta walk me all the way back home,"

Bluepaw shook his head.

"Now why would I pass up the promise'a huckleberries, hm?" He raised his eyebrows. "No miss, I'm stayin right here until ye keep yer promise,"

Thekka shook her head in frustration. There was no winning an argument with Bluepaw.

The two friends walked through the village, greeting other otters as they passed. It was a beautiful day, and every beast seemed to have moved their chores outdoors. Some were grinding wild rice flour, some sat mending shrimp nets or sewing. A few young kits were eating an early lunch in the shade of some trees. Thekka smiled at them. Kits were such a joy; they were full of energy and a seemingly constant reason to smile and laugh. A few of the young ones stopped to wave as they passed. Thekka smiled and waved back. She kept the smile as they walked on, passing between two of the huts

"Lookin' mighty pleased with yerself, eh?" Thekka and Bluepaw were suddenly stopped by an old gray-furred otter who was leaning on a worn ash cane. He scrutinized Thekka with squinty eyes.

"Weren't getting' inta no mischief were ye?" Thekka shook her head.

"'Course not."

The old otter nodded slowly. Bluepaw saw where the conversation was going and cut in.

"Thekka wouldn't get inta any mischief; she went out to get some huckleberries."

The old otter scoffed.

"Prol'ly took'em from some poor beast," he said under his breath. Bluepaw rolled his eyes.

"Aw, come on, Daran, that's jus' crazy talk. Thekka wouldn't take half a morning ta steal huckleberries, now would she?" Daran gave Thekka another look and pointed his cane at her.

"You may fool others missy, but I'll ne'er be fooled. I known plenty' a vermin like ye an they all be the same in the end." With that, the otter turned and shuffled away, leaving the two creatures in shocked silence. Bluepaw saw Thekka angered face and put a comforting arm around her.

"Aw, don' lissen'a him, Thek. He's just prej'diced is all. Don't let 'im bother ya."

Thekka sighed. She was used to the mixed acceptance that she received from the clan, and normally ignored it, but Daran made her made her particulary bitter. He was the same otter who had accused her of stealing his cane. Since then, she had tried to avoid him if at all possible.

Thekka was glad that Bluepaw had not gotten angry. He was one to go off at things like this, especially if they concerned her. It was just who he was, always protective of his close friends. Thekka was happy about this, but she didn't want others to feel obligated to stand up for her. She wanted to be accepted for what she herself did.

Just then, the two reached Thekka's hut. They stopped in front of the cloth-draped doorway. Bluepaw turned to Thekka

"Well, this is where I leave ya," he held out his paw and waited, "Well?" Thekka rolled her eyes

"Fine," she put the basket and taking out a pawful of berries. She ceremoniously placed them into Bluepaw's out- stretched paw. "For yer kind deed of escortin' me back 'ome, sir,"

The otter took the berries eagerly

"Thank ye kindly, miss." He made a mock bow to the vixen. Thekka smirked

"Why yew still here? Go find Shora an'Fen afore they think yer a lazy beast."

"'M n't 'azy,Bluepaw insisted through a mouthful of berries. He swallowed and then began to walk away, then turned back

"Ya don't s'pose I could have a few m-"

"Go!" Thekka said pointing towards the mudflats. Bluepaw held up his paws defensively

"Alright, alright, there's no need ta shout, miss, I'm goin'."

Thekka made her way into the hut, ducking unter some trinkets that hung from the ceiling. Inside, Kettu was busy cutting up a pile of greens. The savory smell of shrimp wafted from the kettle simmering on the hearth. Thekka walked over to the wooden table by the small hearth. She gave her adopted mother a kiss on the cheek and then popped a piece of shrimp into her mouth when she wasn't looking. Kettu saw anyway and slapped the vixen's paw lightly.

"Don't snitch," she said. "There's plenty in the soup," the ottermum added the pile of chopped greens to the kettle. As she did, Thekka quickly snatched another piece of shrimp.

"Where 'ave you been?" Kettu asked when she came back. Thekka hefted the basket of berries onto the table.

"Gettin' these. Yew said ye needed huckleberries, didn't you?"

Kettu's eye widened. "Yes, but, I didn't expect so many! We'll have enough turnovers for a month," she covered the basket with a cloth and set it in the corner.

Thekka shrugged. "I'm surprised that many made it inta the basket. I think I was eatin' every other one."

Kettu looked at her began to laugh. "Every other one, eh? Well, I 'ope your not too full for lunch."

Thekka looked surprised. "Me? too full for lunch?" Kettu smiled and ruffled Thekka's fur.

"Good," She turned and began filling two wooden bowls with the steaming soup. Thekka put her knife sheath on a hook in the wall and noticed that Shad's knife and pole were gone.

"Where's Shad?" she asked.

"'E went out ta fish for a while. Thought he'd enjoy that summer air," Kettu handed Thekka a bowl of soup. The vixen nodded

"It is a beautiful day. Wot say we eat outside?" Kettu agreed

"Excellent idea; I've been cooped up in this stiflin' place all day," the otter took off her head scarf and followed Thekka out of the hut. They made their way behind the structure to the shade of a young maple and sat down on a fallen tree trunk.

"So," Kettu said as they ate the soup, "It taste good?" Thekka swallowed a mouthful and nodded vigorously. "Good. I added some extra onion an' parsley to it this time, so I wasn't sure." Thekka gave her adoptive mother a skeptical look.

"Since when 'as anything you've cooked tasted bad?" Kettu laughed.

"Oh, b'lieve me, I wasn't always a good cook," she leaned close and whispered in Thekka's ear. A grin spread across the vixen's face as she listened to the secret.

"No!" She said when Kettu pulled away. The otter nodded

"Aye, 'afore I married Shad I was a terrible cook; I coulda burned water."

"But, you can cook jus' fine now, did some mir'cle 'appen?"

Kettu giggled.

"I begged Shad's ole mum ta teach me, and thank me rudder I did. I'd a never lasted if I 'ad'nt, wot with the way that old rogue eats,"

Both females began to giggle. It was true, Shad's stomach never seemed to be full, and it was amazing to Thekka how he could stay fit even when he consumed vittles like a hare. The vixen downed the rest of her soup and licked some stray drops from her muzzle "Does Shad know?" she asked. Kettu shook her head.

"Oh, great seasons, no! And I don't intend for 'im to, either. He'd never let me live it down. No, to 'im it's as if I've always been da best cook in the world." The smallest of grins began to form on Thekka's face. Kettu frowned.

"Oh, no, don't you think about tellin' anybeast about this, ya hear? One word and you won't be gettin' a single one of those turnovers,"

Thekka grinned and squeezed the otter's shoulder.

"Don' worry, your secret's safe with me. Cross me heart."

Kettu still looked skeptical.

"Not. One. Word."

Thekka nodded solemnly. The ottermum smiled and picked up her soup bowl.

"Well, wot say we get an early start on those turnovers?"

They went back inside, washed their bowls, then began the baking process. Kettu decided to make only a few turnovers for the family and save the rest of the berries for the clan gathering. They washed a small portion the berries, and then let them soak in a mixture of water and honey crystals. While this was going on, Kettu measured out a rice flour into a bowl and mixed it with water and rock salt, as well as a little honey for sweetness. She kneaded the mixture until it was a doughy mass, then dumped it out onto the table and punched it with her fists to knead it further. Once the dough was done, both she and Thekka began to make little circles, which they filled with berries and pinched shut. They were putting the unbaked turnovers into a basket when Shad entered the hut, whistling to himself. He put his fishing pole and knife back in their places and turned to the two females.

"Now, that's what a bloke likes ta see when he gets home," he gave Kettu a kiss on the cheek and ruffled Thekka's ears, "his two fav'rite gels cookin' up somethin' delicious." He looked down at the turnovers and sniffed.

"Are those huckleberry?" he asked, reaching for one. Kettu smacked his paw with a wooden spoon.

"Look at you, ya greedy beast, yer as bad a she is," she waved a paw at Thekka. "Sorry, but you'll have ta wait till dinner."

She pointed to the kettle on the hearth. "If yer hungry, have some soup; we saved you some." Shad rubbed his stinging paw and grimaced, but his mind was soon on the soup. He sat down on a stump in the corner with his bowl.

"So, 'ow was the fishin?" Kettu asked. The otter looked up from his soup.

"I'm startin ta b'lieve that those fish know it's me. Not a single nibble!" He sighed in frustration and shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"An' ow did the others do?"

Shad rolled his eyes.

"Oh, they was gettin' bites left an' right. Runka even lent me 'is pole; nothin! It was downright embarassin'. I finally dove in ta get one."

Thekka covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. The metal picture of Shad doing that was almost too much. The otter narrowed his eyes .

"Now don't ye be laughin' t me, missy, or I'll 'ave that red tail a your's fer a fishin' lure.

Thekka grinned devilishly

"Ye'd 'ave ta catch me first, old timer." Kettu shot her a look.

"Thekka, that's no way to speak to adopted father, now is it?"

"But 'e started it," the vixen protested. Shad put up a paw.

"Naw, let 'er be, Kettu; ye can't tell 'er right from wrong forever," he put his bowl in the wash tub and then went behind the curtain strung across the far corner of the hut. Moments later, there were loud snores. Kettu sighed and shook her head in dismay.

"Will ya listen ta 'im? Lazy as sunfish in the shallows." She smiled as they continued putting the turnovers away.

For the rest of the afternoon, Thekka did her chores. She brought fresh water from the creek, refilled the wood box, and patched up one of her worn tunics. Before Kettu baked the turnovers, the vixen also cleaned out the small oven in the back of the hut and built a fire. When she was done, she helped Kettu fill the baking shelf with as many turnovers as it would hold, and then built up the fire. By the time the last batch was done, Thekka's mouth was watering from the sweet aroma of baked huckleberries and honey dough. She thought it would be bad to just try one.

"Jus' ta make sure they're done enough," she appealed to a skeptical Kettu

However, the otterwife's watchful eye and wooden spoon discouraged any pre-meal samplings. Both Shad and Thekka had stinging paws by the time dinner came.

However, it was worth the wait. Kettu baked hotroot marinated shrimp for supper, with watercress salad and rice bread to go with. After the meal, Kettu brought out the basket of turnovers.

"Alright, te can have one ea-" the ottermum hadn't even finished speakingbefore Thekka and Shad had attacked the turnovers. four were gone in the span of a minute. "One each." Kettu finished.

"Sorry, what was that?" Shad asked, his muzzle already stained with blue juice. The ottermum rolled her eyes at a loss.

"Eat till you burst."

* * *

Later that night, Thekka was lying on her bed. She lay there for a long while, staring up at the dark roof thatch and the glowing stars that peeked in through the small window. The warm wind blew softly over her fur. Thekka curled up on her side; it would be a long day tomorrow with the Bankpaws coming, and she needed her sleep. She smiled and closed her eyes. The crickets began their moonlight serenade, their rhythmic chirping bidding her good night.

* * *

**So, Thekka is about sixteen right now and Bluepaw is 17. Kettu is 38. **

**Review =)**


	4. Sparring and Dancing

**Finally, this chapter is up! I couldn't figure out how to start it (Darn writer's block), Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. You guys rock! =) **

_**12-23-11** - I fixed a little problem that had been bothering me. The character of Vlach changed species half way through the chapter (From stoat to weasel) so I just cleared that up. He's a stoat._

**Disclaimer: I own only my characters and the plot. The song Banda sings was written by Johnny Bannerman. **

* * *

Uriun Greeneyes was surrounded on all sides. He was weaponless, but that was all part of the exercise. The young fox licked his dry lips and turned, keeping the four hordebeasts around him in sight at all times. Other assorted vermin looked on from outside the fighting circle, talking over each other and betting whether or not the young male would succeed. Uriun ignored them and concentrated his mind completely on his adversaries. This was part of his learning to become a proper fighter, and after six seasons of it, he had worked it down to a concentrated science. His father and Captain Vlach had taught him well. The first rule in hand fighting was to never get distracted; the smallest second of hesitation could leave one open for a surprise attack.

Suddenly, one of the beasts, a weasel called Kuja took a chance and charged at Uriun, aiming a blow at the fox's head. Uriun ducked and caught the weasel by the arm. He delivered a straight armed blow to the back of Kuja's neck, and then one to his stomach, which sent him head over paws out of the circle and into the crowd of watching hordebeasts. The weasel was down for a few moments before he sat up shakily amid gales of raucous laughter and began to massage his neck and belly. The three others in the circle, two stoats and a heavily tattooed rat looked at the weasel and charged the Uriun the same time, fists raised. The fox waited; the second rule in a fight was to let the opponent charge first. Defense was easier than attacking, and gave one more time to consider a move. He let them get close, and then felled each in turn using a series of blockings, punches, and kicks. He was left standing alone in the circle. There was more laughing and cheering from the gathered hordebeasts. The fox shrugged and stepped over the groaning vermin and out of the circle; he was not even sweating. He merely turned and waited for the next exercise to begin.

Ever since he was young, Uriun's father, Ulvaey had seen to it that he received vigorous training to prepare him for being a warlord. This included different styles of fighting and weapon handling, exercises to make him stronger, and stern discipline to make him tough. Uriun had excelled naturally in all of these areas, even to the point that some considered him to be as ruthless and ambitious as his sire. In Uriun's mind, he was even more ruthless; though, he never spoke of it out loud. That was something he had learned from his father: A true warlord never showed all that he truly felt; that was what helped him keep authority over his horde.

The fox looked up as a hefty stoat with a jagged scar across his snout and cheek stepped into the ring and faced him with a fighting stance. It was Captain Vlach, the weapons master of the Zahir horde. No beast knew a weapon better than he did. He was also an expert swordbeast, and had been Uriun's main teacher in fighting. The stoat unsheathed his sword and held it at his side. The fox looked up at his teacher and then took up his own weapons. He moved into the circle and stood opposite the stoat. The fox's favorite weapons were a pair of short swords with slightly curved blades. They were identical in every way, and when the fox wielded them, they moved as one, blocking and parrying with deadly accuracy. The two beasts were motionless for a moment, weapons raised; then, both moved. Vlach took a step to the side, coming towards Uriun who stepped the opposite way to maintain the distance between them. The stoat smiled the tiniest bit at his opponent's move, and then moved again. He charged and made a slash at Uriun, who blocked it. He tried again, this time swiping at the fox's head. The blow jarred Uriun's arm as he blocked it and caught the stoat's sword in his double ones . Both beasts were pulled together, their faces inches apart.

"You look confid'nt; gonna beat me t'day, eh?" Vlach taunted. Uriun grinned.

"Like a cur," he replied, and then pulled his two swords apart. Vlach was thrown off balance, but he righted himself , eager to fight.

And what a fight it was. Uriun and Vlach moved like crazed beasts, swinging and dodging as they fought freestyle inside the circle. The hordebeasts moved back to avoid the swing weapons as fox and stoat seemed to chase each other, sending blow after blow. The air wsas filled with clanging as metal crashed against metal. Uriun concentrated and made use of all the skills he had learned. He blocked and returned blows almost as fast as Vlach sent them, turning and stepping smoothly to maintain good balance. The fight went on and on, getting more and more rigorous, until Vlach's sword was suddenly struck out of his paw. The stoat looked away as it sailed through the air, giving Uriun enough time to hit him in the stomach with the flat of his sword. He then stood over the stoat with his weapons poised in a 'kill' position; had the fight been real, Vlach would have been dead. Uriun looked down at the stoat in triumph, grinning slightly at his dumbfounded face. It was not often that he beat Vlach, but this was a particularly good fight, and he had been practicing. He was breathing hard from the mock fight. Slowly, got up from his back and retrieved his weapon the sand. There was a chorus of raucous cheering from the hordebeasts, before they began to disperse. Uriun went and sat down nearby, panting from the exercise.

The stoat captain made his way over to Uriun, who was seated on a low stone. The fox was unwinding the strips of cloth wrapped around his wrists; they were stained with sweat and dust. He tossed them aside and then reached over and shook his tunic out before putting it back on. Vlach stopped in front of him, paws akimbo. He looked slightly bewildered, and shook his head.

"Well, ye beat me."

"I 'ad to sometime," Uriun replied. Vlach shrugged, and then sat down on another rock and wiped his forehead.

"dat's true," The fox looked at him

"But I ain't really bested you, not quite," He said, shaking his head. The weasel looked at him questioningly. "I'm no match fer ya wiv a single sword yet." Uriun explained. The weasel captain chuckled.

"Haharrr! Dat's all ye think about; yer never sat'isfied wiv anythin' unless ye do it da best, eh?" Uriun nodded; his was completely serious. The stoat shrugged again. It didn't really concern him what Uriun felt as long as his father was pleased with his condition. That was what got Vlach respect in the horde, and he wasn't about to give it up. The stoat stood up and cracked his neck loudly.

"Ye can fight wiv a single sword t'morer." He said, and then sauntered away. Uriun watched him go, and then took his swords and looked then over carefully. The fox was proud of his weapons and kept them in top shape. Most of the time, he would use a common sword from the horde's weapon supply for practice fights, but sometimes, he just felt stronger using the double swords. They had been made especially for him, and fitted his paws perfectly. After every practice session with them, Uriun would take time to carefully clean and re-sharpen the blades. This was what he now did. Taking a small stone from a bag on his belt, the fox put one sword across his lap and began to slide the stone down it, slowly giving the metal a new edge. He did this to the second one as well, and then spat on a corner of his tunic. He rubbed each sword down carefully until they shone. When the fox was satisfied with his work, he slid the swords back in their sheath. The two weapons fit together like two halves of a puzzle, joining at the hilt to become one. He looked up at the sun; it was a little past it's high point, which would leave him plenty of time to run for a while. The fox strapped the sheath to his back and then began to make his way around the edge of the camp.

After a little while, Uriun began to trot. He made his way through rocks and patches of low scrub and dune grass, to the shoreline. From here, he went down the coast a ways until he came to a small, bay-like opening. The shore there was full of huge pillars of white rock that towered above the sand. It was hidden from the camp, and Uriun often went here when he wanted to be alone. The fox stowed his scabbard between two rocks and then headed out along the sand at a paced jog.

* * *

Vini, the ferret guard, had been watching the fight between Uriun and Vlach from Ulvaey's tent. He watched the young fox defeat the weasel, and sniggered to himself. He had never liked Vlach, and to see him be beaten was a rare treat. His laughing caught the attention of Coruja, another guard with one ear missing.

"Wot's so funny?" the fat stoat asked dumbly. The ferret guard looked up and grinned

"Haharrr! Ye shoulda seen it, mate. Uriun jus' beat ole Vlach, t'rew 'im right on 'is back." Vini sniggered again. The stoat ran over and tried to see around the ferret.

"Where? Lemme see!"

"Ger off me, lump brain," Vini said, shoving the stoat away, "Dere's nothin' ta see no more, ye missed it."

"If you'd said somefin' ea'lier, I woulda seen it, stub nose." Coruja said angrily.

"Who ya callin' stubnose, tub gut?" Vini snapped back, shoving the stoat in the stomach. Coruja glared at him.

"I ain't no tub gut, slobber chops." The stoat shoved his horde mate back.

"Yeah? Well-."

"Enough!" said a third voice angrily. Both stoat and ferret forgot their quarrel and turned to look at the fox at the back of the tent. Ulvaey Greeneyes was leaning over a map on a table, and he wasn't at all happy about the interruption.

"One more word out of either of you and you can go and join them… as target practice." The Warlord glared at the two hordebeasts, who gulped and nodded.

"S-sorry, m'lord." Coruja said in his most respectful voice. "D-didn't mean no disr'spect, sir." Vini added his own apology.

"Aye, m'lord, no disr'spect at all."

Ulvaey didn't even bother to look at the hordebeasts; he just rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. There were some days when a rock could have had more brains than his guards; this was one of those days. The fox closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and continued to look at the map. It was detailed, and showed all the territory of the surrounding lands, from the ocean, to the vast forests of Mossflower. The Zahir horde was presently residing in the southlands. However, the warlord's interest was now more fixed on the northlands that they had come from more than sixteen seasons ago. Ulvaey felt a little pang in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. Coruja began to walk back and forth by the table.

"Uriun's fightin better an' better e'vry day, m'lord." He said. The fox nodded and made a small 'un' in reply. Coruja nodded and looked out the small netted window of the tent.

"Wot wiv how he's beatin' Vlach loik dat, I'd say e's even better dan you now, eh."

Vini stopped his own pacing and turned stare at the fat stoat, a look of pure horror on his face.

Ulvaey stiffened as he processed the words. He slowly looked up at Coruja, and frowned; his green eyes had a murderous glint to them. The stoat looked down at him, completely oblivious, saw the glint, and suddenly realized his mistake. He backed up a little, and started stuttering an apology.

"Ah, s'rry, I-I-I jus' meant dat- what I was tryin' ta say was, uh…" he looked to Vini for some sort of back up. The ferret broke in.

"Eh, wot 'e meant ta say, m'lord was dat, uh, Uriun's getting ta be jus' like you. Ya know, all tough and warlord like, an'… um." The ferret trailed off under Ulvaey's gaze. The fox glared at them for another moment, and then went back to the map. He was silent. The two guards stood completely still, waiting for the fox to show some sort of other reaction.

"Get out." He said finally." The two hordebeasts looked at him.

"Sir?"

"Out!" Ulvaey yelled, drawing his sword. One look at their seemingly berserk warlord had Coruja and Vini sprinting through the tent flap, tripping over each other and their own paws in their hurry to get away. One could hear fearful yelps as they ran.

Nuvak, the captain of Ulvaey's personal guard had just walked up to the tent with a tray of freshly cooked woodpigeon. He heard Ulvaey's enraged yell, and was nearly run over by the two terrified beasts who suddenly burst from the tent. The brown fox looked at the tent flap and waited a moment before he tentatively pushed it aside. What he saw explained the incident of seconds ago. Ulvaey was standing next to the table, his sword raised with a trembling paw. His green eyes were wide with rage, and he was breathing heavily through bared teeth. Nuvak took a chance at speaking.

"E'verythin' alright, m'lord?" he asked, "Vini an' Coruja were runnin' pretty fast outta 'ere, yelling too." Ulvaey remained tense, but he lowered his sword and sheathed it.

"A few more seconds an' they woulda had no legs ta run on; much less mouths ta yell with." Nuvak looked at Ulvaey with a slightly wary expression. He had been head guard long enough to understand the fox's temper, but this seemed a bit out of the ordinary. Even Ulvaey wasn't one to get angry for no reason. The warlord spoke again.

"Well, don' just stan' there like a dumb beast, what' d'you want." Nuvak looked at him.

"Oh, I was just bringin' ye some vittles, m'lord." He walked up to the table and set the tray down. Ulvaey looked at the bird, and then tore off one of its legs and gazed at it for a moment before eating it. When he was finished he looked at Nuvak seriously.

"There's somethin' important I need ta discuss wid you," he said. Nuvak raised his brow slightly, but nodded. Ulvaey went to the chest in the back of the tent and rummaged through it. He returned to the map table with a leather wrapped flask and two carved cups. He uncorked the flask and began to fill the cups till they were half full. He handed one of them to Nuvak. The fox declined the wine.

"Ye knows I don't drink, m'lord," He said, and then tapped the side of his head, "Dulls the senses."

Ulvaey eyed him suspiciously, but then nodded and set the glass down. Nuvak was disciplined, unlike many of his other guards and captains who often went and drank too much around a fire. He never accepted any wine or drink of any kind. The warlord set the glass down on the table and then drank from his own. Nuvak waited for him to speak. Ulvaey looked up from the ground.

"Nuvak, ye know that I've decided ta go north, to fresh lands." The fox captain nodded curtly. The warlord had confided in him earlier of this. The southlands had been slowly drained of resources as the horde had remained there, and Ulvaey had finally decided that it would be more productive to return north. There would be more food, more opportunities to gain wealth, not to mention that there would be no threat of the badgers and hares from the great mountain down the coast, the one that some called Salamandastron, the mountain of the badger lords. Ulvaey had already known from word of mouth that the mountain was not worth the effort to take, so the Zahir had merely avoided it. They still had the odd hare scout who could be seen watching them from the rocks on the coastline, but no more than that.

Ulvaey continued after he saw the fox's nod.

"Good. It'll need ta be observed before we return." He wiped the rim of his glass with a paw.

"Take five beasts and scout the northlands. See if there's a good food supply, an water too. Also, I want you to watch any other settlements there. I trust you're capable a that?" Nuvak looked at his warlord with hard eyes, then thumped his right paw across his chest and nodded. Ulvaey returned the nod.

"Leave me." Nuvak turned smartly and left the tent to find five capable beasts for the scouting party.

After he left, Ulvaey returned to looking at the map. His green eyes glittered as they swept across the vast northern forest of Mossflower. The warlord knew something about it that his horde did not: Somewhere in that forest there was a great fortress called Redwall. Ulvaey had more reason to return north than he had let on about. His seer, Uka, had recently had a vision of the strange building. According to her, it was said that there was a sword there, a sword that was unbeatable. It had been forged by a badger lord and made from the metal of a falling star. The fox imagined having an unbeatable sword. He could become the most powerful warlord in the history of the Zahir, even more powerful than his sire. Just the thought of it made his spine tingle with greed. He would have that sword, even if he had to destroy Redwall itself. The warlord sat down in his chair and helped himself to the glass of untouched wine still on the table. He was in good spirits.

* * *

In the days before the summer festival, Thekka was busier than a bumblebee in spring. The vixen had been helping preparations for the gathering. A great quantity of food was called for to be able to satisfy two hungry otter clans. Groups had been systematically formed to handle all of the duties. Thekka had been assigned to the rice picking group. The vixen was not been happy about this. She would much rather have gone berrying with the younger otters, or perhaps stayed to help with the cooking; both would have been ideal times for sampling, something the vixen rather enjoyed. Kettu, however, had made sure that she would get no such satisfaction, and had volunteered her right away for the rice detail.

It was because of this that the vixen was now paddling a boat through a particularly shallow and weedy patch of marsh. She knew enough not to get in this situation, but her gathering partner Annik, had spotted a 'perfect 'swatch of rice, and here they were. Thekka scrambled to steady the boat as the young otter leaned out again towards the swatch.

"Careful, mate," She warned. "Any farther an' you'll fall in, an' don't think I'll come in after ya."

Annik ignored the vixen's concern and leaned out a little more, rocking the boat again.

"Just a little farther, Thekka," she said, "I can almost reach it." Thekka rolled her eyes.

"Wot's so important about _that _bunch'a rice? There's a hundred others just like it?" Annik didn't answer. The otter reached out as far as she could, extending her claws so that they just touched the stalk.

"C'mon, just a little more." Thekka dug her paddle unto the water once again and shoved it through the weedy bottom. Annik's paw closed around the rice stalk.

"Got it!" she said in triumph, "Right fine pickin' don' ya think, mate?" she tossed the stalk into the large basket in the boat.

"Fin'lly!" Thekka said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Can we go now, oh queen of rice pickin'; or do ya see anythin' else worth tippin' the boat for?" Annik turned and stuck her tongue out at the vixen.

"Yer jealous 'cause I know good rice when I see it." She said. Thekka grinned evilly.

"Ye best watch it." She raised the paddle. "You got us into this rush patch, you can get us out if'n ye like." The smart look disappeared from Annik's face, and she sat quietly as the vixen attempted to back paddle through the shallow water. After a good deal of heavy strokes and unhelpful words of encouragement from the otter, the boat was free and back in the little side stream they had come down. They picked rice until their basket was full, and then got back on Little Wren creek. The sun was high in the sky as Thekka and Annik paddled west back to Wrensong Creek. Once there, they turned north and began to make their way back to the Holt. They saw no sign of the other rice pickers. Thekka called up to the front of the boat

"If'n we're late, I'm blaming you, Annik; yer the one who just 'ad to 'ave that rice," The ottermaid didn't reply.

A while later, Thekka steered the boat down the stream that went to the Holt. She paddled up to the sandy bank and then got out and helped Annik drag the boat ashore. They stowed the paddles under the seats and lifted out the full rice basket. Then, with each holding a side, the carried the basket into the village and brought it to where the food was being prepared. As Thekka had suspected, their fellow rice pickers were already there, stripping rice kernels from their stalks. Kefka, the female in charge of the rice collecting came over to the two pickers. Thekka could tell from her fast walk and stern face that she was unhappy with their lateness. She stopped in front of them and put her hands on her hips

"An' where in the name a' fur an' feathers 'ave you two been? Ya know 'ow rushed we are!"

"Sorry, marm," Thekka said, "Somebeast saw the perfect rice and just _had _ta have it." She shot a look at Annik, who smiled innocently like a naughty otter kit. Kefka raised an eyebrow and then sighed and put a paw on her forehead.

"Just finish taking the kernels off. I trust ye can do that." The two creatures nodded in unison and then sat down and began to put the kernels in a smaller woven basket. When they were done, they gave the kernels to one of the female's grinding them into flour, and went their separate ways. Thekka went to help Kettu with the cooking. Her adoptive mother was thankful for the help, even though the vixen was known to snitch every once in a while. Together, they made a huge pot of stew, along with some loaves of rice bread, and a raspberry trifle. Thekka had never seen Kettu so rushed. She seemed to fly around the hut as she cooked, going back and forth to check on different dishes and adding spices or stirring. More than once, Thekka had to slow her down.

"Kettu, it's alright, they aren't coming this instant. Here, let me do that, you nearly chopped your own paw up with those herbs." The otterwife smiled as she handed Thekka the knife.

"Thank-you, Thekka." She said, and wiped a paw across her forehead. "Seasons, I 'aven't cooked this much since… well, since Shad an' I were married."

Kettu sat down for a moment and watched Thekka dump the paw full of herbs into the enormous kettle of stew.

"That should do it." She said. "One pawful a fresh parsley, that's what you always say."

Kettu got up and tasted the stew. She nodded.

"Perfect; you're learnin' these recipes fast, eh." She patted Thekka on the back.

For the rest of the day, Thekka helped out where she could. She gathered wood for the large fire they would have that night, helped Bluepaw bring in shrimp traps, and assisted in guarding the drying berries from mischievous kits.

The sun was three quarters across the sky when a young male named Danya came running into the Holt. He had been watching the river, and had seen boats coming from the south; the Bankpaws were nearly here. Oh, the frantic rushing that ensued! Otters ran everywhere, making last minute preparations and setting up pine torches around the forest clearing for when it got dark. Kettu made Thekka put on a clean tunic despite the vixen's protesting ("Aw, it's only a little stained,"). By the time The Bankpaws pulled up to the shallows, nearly the entire Streamgale Holt was gathered to meet them. The head of the clan, a tall otter named Shava, waved a paw.

"Ahoy there, mate's! Some fancy greetin' we're gettin', eh." The otter was out of his boat as soon as it hit the sand. Shad was waiting for him on the bank, a smug grin on his face. Shava was a relative of Shad's, and the two embraced heartily, thumping each other on the back like old friends. The tall otter kissed Kettu on the cheek, and made her smile.

"Welcome, Shava." She said

There were cheers and hello's to be made as more boats pulled into the stream and creatures saw old friends again. Soon, the bank was filled with otters of both clans hugging and laughing and talking. There had not been a gathering of this size since Thekka was very little, and the pressing crowd made her feel like a shrimp in an overfull net. Shava walked through the melee, shaking paws and such until he suddenly spotted Thekka. The big otter sauntered up to the vixen.

"An' who is this green-eyed missy?" He asked, grinning mischievously at her. Kettu came and put a paw on Thekka's shoulder.

"Ye remember Thekka don't ye, Shava." The otter put a paw on his chin and looked at the vixen for a moment. Then he grinned

"A' course I remember you." He said, giving Thekka a firm pat on the shoulder.  
"You was only this big when I saw ye last." He put his paw a few feet off the ground. "'Course, I didn't see ya very much, ye hid b'hind Kettu most of the time." He laughed heartily. Thekka smiled happily.

The greetings lasted for a long time before Shad finally led the way to the willow clearing. It served the same purpose as the meeting chamber, but given the beautiful weather and the larger space, it was far more suitable. By this time, the food was being brought to the tables. Every otter, from the youngest too the oldest stood dumbstruck, their mouths watering as tables were filled. Before they began to eat, Shad spoke as he had at the clan meal; he welcomed everyone and then said some words of thanks for the food. By the time he finished, Thekka's stomach was growling. The food was surrounded by otters. In an early attempt to keep order, several females rounded up the kits and had them sit in a large group. They would need to wait just a little longer.

As it was with polite custom, the Bankpaws went first. By the time Thekka was able to eat, her stomach was protesting at her. Unfortunately, when the vixen got to the table, she had no idea where to start. The many foods that had been served at the clan meal seemed mere bread and water in comparison. Thekka's mind went in to a whirl as she surveyed the feast before her. There were soups and stews, with plenty of hotroot pepper to go with; fish, shrimp, and crab, cooked in so many different ways, the vixen couldn't count them. Green salads sat next to bowls of colorful berries, making the table look like a meadow in bloom. There were other foods besides, but Thekka's eyes went almost immediately to the desserts. Oh, how wonderful they looked; trifles, blackberry, strawberry, raspberry, and more. There were turnovers, sweet-breads, and cakes. There were lattice-topped pies with warm fruit juice dripping from their crimped edges. The aroma itself was indescribable. After a long while of decision making, the vixen finally sat down with her heaping plate. Soon, she was joined by Bluepaw. The otter was carrying _two_ full plates. He sat down carefully, making sure not to drop a single crumb of food. Thekka paused with a strawberry halfway into her mouth and stared at the miniature feast.

"Gettin' ready for a famine?" she asked. The otter looked down at the two plates and shrugged

"Shad said t'enjoy the food." He spread his paws. "This is me enjoying it,"

Thekka shook her head. The two friends were soon joined by other otters, and they all sat together, eating and laughing and joking.

Sometime later, the meal was winding down. A few otters had lit a large at the far end of the clearing. Suddenly, Shava stood.

"We're all 'ere t'gether," he said, "Why don't we 'ave a little music, eh?" There was a loud chorus of agreement from the assembled group. Some of the Bankpaws began cheering.

"Banda!" they shouted, "Play us a tune!" The cheers heightened as an old, grizzled, otter stood up amid the crowd. The tables were moved together to make more room in front of the fire. Banda waved a paw at a few other otters, who joined him, bringing pipes and a tambourine. Banda was carrying a fiddle. The group congregated in front of the bonfire

"Now," Banda said, addressing the clans, "This be a dancin' tune. He lifted the fiddle to his shoulder; all at once, a lively tune filled the clearing. It was joined by harmony from the pipes, and tambourine, and then Banda began to sing and a strong, deep voice

"_Step we gaily, on we go_  
_Heel for heel and toe for toe,_  
_Arm in arm and row on row._  
_All for Mairi's wedding_

_Over hillways up and down_  
_Myrtle green and bracken brown,_  
_Past the sheilings through the town,_  
_All for sake of Mairi._

_Step we gaily, on we go_  
_Heel for heel and toe for toe,_  
_Arm in arm and row on row._  
_All for Mairi's wedding_

_Red her cheeks as rowans are_  
_Bright her eyes as any star,_  
_Fairest o' them all by far_  
_Is our darlin' Mairi._

_Step we gaily, on we go_  
_Heel for heel and toe for toe,_  
_Arm in arm and row on row._  
_All for Mairi's wedding_

_Plenty herring, plenty meal_  
_Plenty peat to fill her creel,_  
_Plenty bonny bairns as weel_  
_That's the toast for Mairi._

_Step we gaily, on we go_  
_Heel for heel and toe for toe,_  
_Arm in arm and row on row._  
_All for Mairi's wedding"_

During the song, several otters stood and began to jig, or dance with each other. More and more came, until the clearing was filled with dancing otters. Thekka watched some of the kits as they twirled in circles, going faster and faster until they fell over, laughing and dizzy. Banda's group played song after song. Bluepaw was determined to get Thekka to dance. The vixen strongly refused, but he didn't give up. Finally, Thekka agreed. Bluepaw pulled her in to the frenzy of otters twirling to a lively tune. Soon, Thekka was laughing and twirling along with them.

The dancing and singing went on for a long time, until everybeast was thoroughly tired out. Many of the kits had fallen asleep against each other and were snoring. There were goodnights, and the otters slowly dispersed. The Bankpaws had brought along blankets and mats, and every spare blanket the Streamgales had was brought for them to use. Some went and slept in the meeting room, others stayed in relative's huts, and still others, including Shava, set their blankets outside and slept right in the clearing under the stars. Thekka was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. She had never been so tired or happy, in her life.

* * *

**Well, there you have it, Chapter 4 is finished. Hope you liked it :) **

**Btw, in the beginning with the fighting, I don't really have any experience with that sort of thing, so I was just making it up as I went. If you think that it sounded all wrong and have a better idea, I would gladly appreciate hearing it. Thanks =) **

**Review :)**


	5. A Walk in the Abbey

**Okay, this is probably my fastest update EVER! So, I hope you like this chapter; I decided that this was a good time to introduce Redwall into the plotline, so here is a little intermission chappie. Also, a little over two months have passed since the last chapter, so it's around late August to early September **

**Disclaimer: Same as it's always been**

**Now, onto the chapter...**

* * *

Chapter 4

"Oh, dash it all," Abbot Mackensey said as he pricked himself in the paw for the umpteenth time. The thin, wiry mouse wiped the ink off on the inside of his wide sleeve and put the injured paw in his mouth.

"Why do these quills never cooperate with me?" He wondered aloud, "Huh, I'm not up to the task of being a recorder, even if it's only a temporary one."

With Brother Lorenzo stuck in bed with a fever, the Abbot had volunteered to take his place as Abbey Recorder. He now found that he couldn't have been more wrong for the job. Mackensey had no problem describing daily events, but the job that he had started this morning was far from interesting. One of his dutie's was to recopy a very old manuscript into a more legible hand. This turned out to be a very boring and ultimately torturous task. To begin with, the manuscript was so yellowed and spotted that it was nearly impossible to read. It was also extremely boring, something about wine and food supplies from some long past decade that were undoubtedly gone by now. On top of this, he was rather clumsy when it came to handling quills. His paws were soon covered with splotches of ink, as well as several small cuts from the sharp tip. It was after the fifth cut that he had put the quill down in frustration. The mouse looked at the manuscript as if it were some sort of slimy something that had crawled up from the depths of a murky bog.

"Well," he said in contempt, "You have been no help whatsoever." The manuscript didn't respond of course, but Mackensey continued to glare at it.

Suddenly, the old mouse's thoughts were interrupted by the gleeful laughter of some small creature. The Abbot rose from his chair and went to the partially open window; it was stained glass, a beautiful mixture of soft blues and greens and purples. Outside, the scene was just as beautiful. The grounds of Redwall Abbey spread before him like a carpet of green, mixed here and there with splashes of colored flowers. The warm sun shone down on the ancient sandstone building giving it a soft pinkish hew. Below, the orchards and gardens were filled with all manner of Redwallers, working diligently to bring in the summer's bounty from the numerous trees and bushes. Among the workers, little abbeybabes, or Dibbuns as they were called, wove their way importantly. They brought empty baskets to the pickers, and some carried pails of their own. Others, those not so keen on working, sneakily helped themselves to the already full baskets. Abbot Mackensey laughed to himself, remembering back to when he had done the very same.

Of course, that had been some time ago. Age had caught up to him, and he knew it well. His bad eyesight was proof of that. Even his thick spectacles did not help entirely. The old mouse sighed and returned to his chair. He sat quietly, lost in absent thought. Just then, a soft knock sounded on the oak door. Mackensey started at the sudden noise, then turned towards the door.

"Yes, come in," he said. The heavy door was pushed open to reveal an old female mouse in a green dress and ivory apron. A crisp white cap covered her grey-streaked head. She was carrying a small plate of what seemed to be small slices of bread. She grinned at him.

"I thought I might find you here, Mister Recorder."

"Good afternoon, Aeva." The Abbot said, "Yes, a job I will never volunteer for again," he grumbled incoherently for a brief moment.

"How is Brother Lorenzo doing? The poor chap looked simply awful when last I saw him."

The Sister walked into the room and set the plate down on the desk.

"Sister Emilina says that the fever's broken; he should be out of the Infirmary in a few days time."

The Abbot breathed a sigh of relief. Sister Aeva raised an eyebrow.

"It really can't be that bad being Abbey recorder, can it?" She asked matter-of-factly. The Abbot gave a sarcastic chuckle.

"Oh, it isn't bad at first, not at all; it's what happens afterwards that they don't tell you about." He gestured to the manuscript.

"This pile of parchment is by far worst thing I have ever dealt with; I tell you, it will be the death of me. I shall either die of boredom, or get ink poisoning from these blasted quill pricks. Sister Aeva made a sound of pity and put a paw around her friend's shoulders.

"Oh, come now, Father Abbot, surely a strong, clever mouse like you won't let a pile of parchment beat him. Besides, I brought something that I'm sure will cheer you up," She pointed to the plate.

Mackensey turned in his chair and looked at the bread. He shrugged, picked up a piece, and took a bite. Immediately, his eyes widened and he ate the rest with gusto. When he was finished, he reached for another piece.

"Mm, this is delicious, what is it?" The Aeva gave a light laugh.

"Its raspberry oat bread with crystallized honey on the top. Mum Sybil asked me to get your approval on it, but -" she watched as the Abbot took another piece, "I can tell that it shouldn't be too hard." Mackensey finished the last slice of bread. He looked up at the Sister.

"Sorry, what?" Aeva shook her head

"Never mind," She looked around the room.

"Goodness, you aren't going to stay cooped up in here all day are you?" Abbot Mackensey looked indecisively around the room. It was rather cramped compared to the outdoors, but he really should have been finishing the manuscript; Brother Lorenzo would be counting on him.

"Well, um…"

Aeva didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed the old mouse's paw like a little dibbun and pulled him clean out of his chair.

"Come on, you old scholar, a walk in the fresh air will do you some good; we don't want too much dust in that old head of yours, now do we?" Mackensey hesitated, but then smiled and followed Aeva out into the corridor. The manuscript could wait.

The two mice walked down corridors and wide flagstone steps and then came to a porch-like walkway that opened out to the grounds. Roses climbed their way up the support pillars and the wall there, intermingling with dark green ivy. The old Abbot closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air, letting the essence of late summer fill his lungs. Aeva smiled at his content face.

"See?" She said, patting him on the back, "I told you that it was too nice a day to be indoors. Why, nearly whole Abbey's out here doing something or another." She gestured to the pond, "Even the dibbuns," The two creatures made their way across the grass to the cattail-skirted water. The warm shallows were filled with young creatures, laughing and splashing to their heart's content. The otter twins, Sarum and Safra, kept a close eye on them from the grass.

Just then, Sarum spotted a trouble maker.

"Oi, you there, Dinny?" he called to a young mouse. "Yew keep splashin' like that an' there'll be no water left in the pond." The mouse looked at the otter and stopped.

"Sorry, mista Sarm," he said. The otter shook his head and smiled, then noticed the two old mice approaching.

"Ahoy there, Father Abbot, Sister Aeva; fine day fer swimmin', eh?" The two mice stopped near the edge of the pond, well out of splashing range.

"It most certainly is Sarum," Mackensey replied, smiling. He looked at the abbeybabes "It looks as though you two have your paws rather full," Safra chuckled.

"They're a regular ole bunch a rouges, I'll give ya that, but nothing we can't 'andle, eh, Sarum?" He cuffed his brother on the shoulder. Sarum nodded and cast a quick glance back at the dibbuns. He then looked back at Mackensey.

"I haven't seen you since breakfast, mate. Yew ain't been cooped up inside on a day like this, have ye?" The abbot looked rather guilty.

"Erm, well-"

"He was filling in for Brother Lorenzo; I saved him from a rather boring manuscript," Aeva cut in, patting Mackensey on the shoulder. The otter brothers nodded in unison. A few of the dibbuns suddenly noticed the visitors, and there was a sudden chorus of hello's and other greetings and cheering. Mackensey and Aeva nodded and waved in return.

"Well," Aeva said, "We should let you get back to watching them. You don't need us distracting you anymore,"

Safra grinned at the Sister.

"Aye, miss, I think ye'd best go; a pretty, exquisite thing like yerself could tip a grizzled sea otter off his rudder," he kissed her paw lightly and then pulled away, grinning. Aeva's eyes widened and she stood for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Why you… you little cheek!" she said in anger. She looked at Sarum, who was laughing at his twin's stunt. "Don't you laugh, you're as bad as he is,"

"Sorry, marm," Safra said, trying his best not to chuckle as well, "I couldn't resist." Sister Aeva smiled wryly, and crossed her arms.

"Well, pray you resist next time, or I'll have Sister Emilina put you to work in the Infirmary." The mouse's stare was so convincing that the otters couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Mackensey halted any further trouble by pulling Aeva in the direction of the orchards.

"Come along, old friend," He said, "Let's leave these two rogues their duties." Aeva was still scrutinizing the twins, but she finally let Mackensey lead her away. As the two mice walked off, the Abbot turned and winked at the otters. Safra and Sarum knew that they were in no trouble.

"Could you believe those two?" Aeva huffed as they walked across the soft grass. She received no reply, and turned to see Mackensey trying to suppress a laugh. The Sister groaned.

"Oh, no, not you too?"

"I'm sorry, Aeva." The Abbot said, "You shouldn't be so hard on them; they're true river otters, and twins at that; you know how much trouble they can be." Aeva looked unconvinced

"Hmph, they were enough trouble when they were dibbuns; I thought it would grow out of them when they got older; seems it only got worse." The Abbot sighed

"They'll only be lads once, let them have a little fun. Besides, I remember doing the exact same thing to old Abbess Kyra when I was their age. She gave me plenty of ear- tweaking for it, but it was great fun." Mackensey chuckled at the memory. Aeva raised an eyebrow.

"I do remember a young mouse like that, quite a charmer he was. They said he could talk pies right off of a kitchen sill. You had Mum Sybil right under your paw didn't you?" The Abbot looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I don't recall being that much of a charmer, but if you say so, then so be it." Aeva shook her head at her hopeless friend.

They creatures reached the edge of the orchard and stood in the shade. The abbot sighed.

"I love the orchards this time of year." He said, taking a deep breath of the apple scented air. Aeva was about to agree, when there came the sound of some beast yelling.

"Farva Abbot! Farva Abbot! The two creatures looked up to see a dibbun hedgehog sprinting across the lawn towards them, screaming the words at the top of her lungs. She was running so fast that she nearly fell over when she stopped in front of the two mice.

"Farva Abbot, coma quick!" She said, as she tried to catch her breath. The mouse knelt down to the dibbun's level.

"Now, Sloey, calm down, what is it?" the hogmaid's eyes were wide.

"You gotta come ta de kichens, quicka; Mum Sybil's gone mad!" She pulled on Mackensey's habit sleeve. Sister Aeva raised her eyebrows

"Gone mad?" Sloey nodded fervently

"She gonna kill Mista Kaiba, hurry!" The hedgehog began sprinting back in the direction of the Abbey. Mackensey and Aeva had no choice but to follow, running as fast as their old joints would allow them. They entered the Great Hall and ran swiftly across the wide flagstones to the kitchens. There were the sounds of a scuffle, mixed every so often with yelps. Mackensey could not imagine what was going on.

The two mice came through the doorway and stopped short. Barad, the abbey's warrior, was standing there as well, surrounded by a little crowd of dibbuns. Mackensey looked past the otter and witnessed the strangest sight he had ever seen in his life.

The kitchen floor was covered with patches of flour and oatmeal, mixed with spices, fruit, and water from an over turned pitcher, which now lay broken on the floor. Several of the kitchen staff were crowded on the other side, clutching their aprons and staring at the strange scene being played out in the center of the melee.

"What is going-" Mackensey began, utterly dumbfounded. Barad put up a paw.

"Shh, just watch, mate." The abbot watched in wonder and confusion. Kaibabsten Vindalou, better known as Kaiba, was the abbey's resident hare, as well as the greediest scoffbag in all of Mossflower. He was notorious for snitching late night helpings from the kitchen, and pilfering pies from windowsills. The dibbuns swore that he could even sing tarts from the oven.

At this point however, the thieving hare did not look so confident. He was crouched up on a table, his ears and tunic covered in flour. Two slightly crushed potato and onion pies were clutched tightly to his chest. Standing on the floor in front of the table was Mum Sybil. The old molecook was glaring steadily at the hare with beady eyes. She was smudged from head to paw with flour, and was brandishing a large wooden spoon as though it were a sword. The molemum waved the spoon threateningly.

"Oi'll tell ee once moor, zurr. Ye put yon pies back on ee window zill, or oi'll beat ye wiv moi zpoon." Even though trapped, Kaiba decided he was in a safe enough position to mouth off to the old cook.

"Heaven's, marm, can't a blighter liberate a few samples without fear of beating?" He said indignantly. "No need to go off on a rampage over something as little as this, wot. The molecook narrowed her eyes and swung at the cheeky hare. Kaiba had no time to react and was struck hard in the foreleg. He yelped and half jumped, half fell off the table, his precious victuals sliding just out of paw reach. He turned on his back and looked up fearfully at the mole cook. Mum Sybil seemed to tower over him as she hefted the spoon. She dealt him a good set of blows and then pointed the utensil at his throat. Abbot Mackensey had never thought to think of moles as violent creatures, but old Mum Sybil was proving him wrong.

"Naow zurr, ye get out of dis eer kitchen afor oi sets ould Barad ee warrior on ye," Even in utter defeat, Kaiba still found some way to be humorous." He snorted

"That old bloke? Please, marm; it'd take him two seasons ta catch me, wot" The hare's raised his chin gallantly. "Do not forget that I was once a runner on the long patrol."

Aeva whispered to Abbot Mackensey.

"With a stomach like that? I never would have guessed," The hare jerked his head and glared at her. Barad crossed his arms and scrutinized the hare.

"Really, mate?" He asked. "Yew think I'm that slow? Well, I don't spend all my time scoffing, now do I? And I have an army of rogue dibbuns ta back me up." He looked down at his little group. "They'll tickle ye until ya burst, ain't that right?" The young ones cheered and grinned evilly at the hare, who gulped. Abbot Mackensey came to his rescue.

"All right, all right, now everyone hold on for a moment." He said entering the kitchen. Kaiba stood up and dusted himself off. He saluted the Abbot smartly

"Righto sah, I say this is all an overreaction," He leaned close to the abbot's ear, "Highly sensitive cooks and what not, dontcha know." He straightened up and looked over at the spoon wielding mole. "If Mum Sybil would kindly know that I meant no harm at all to come to her precious pies." The molecook looked at the hare, dumbfounded.

"Whoi ye little-" she began, raising the spoon again. The Abbot put himself between the hare and the mole. He turned to the cook first.

"Mum Sybil, please know that I will compensate you myself for any pies ruined or stolen by this creature." Kaiba was about to rejoice that he was free to go, but Mackensey ended his celebration before it even began. He turned slowly to the hare and spoke in his most serious voice.

"As for you, Kaibabsten, you will apologize to Mum Sybil and all of her helpers for the time and work you have cost them, as well as clean up the mess you caused. I am also sentencing you to dish duty until further notice; you will report after supper tonight. Because it is her kitchen, Mum Sybil will be in charge of you. She alone will decide if your dishwashing is satisfactory." The Abbot nodded as he finished.

"Now, I leave you to apologize and clean up. After which, you may accompany Sister Aeva to the Infirmary, I believe Sister Emilina could use some help there.

The hare stared at the abbot in disbelief and began to protest.

One of the kitchen assistants, a brown and red furred squirrel named Kalen, spoke up.

"Beggin' your pardon, Father Abbot," she said, "But I think it would be best if he just went to the Infirmary right now; we'd probably get the mess cleaned up faster without his help." The Abbot looked at Mum Sybil for approval. The molecook nodded at Kalen's suggestion

"To ee Infermery wiv 'im" she said, waving the spoon. Kaiba looked extremely relieved and also a bit triumphant. He went and kissed Kalen's paw, then began to shake it with gusto.

"Oh, bless yer little heart, sweet missy, for savin' a poor bloke like meself from such a terrible fate; truly a chivalrous squirrel if there ever was one, wot." Kalen tried vainly to pry her paws from the hare's grasp. Sister Aeva came to her rescue.

"All right, you old scoffer, don't break the poor maid's paw off; come with me." The hare turned to follow the sister. As he was about to leave,Mum Sybil gave him a final warning.

"An if oi evr catch thee theevin' in moi kichen again, oi'll chop off thoi floppy ears an' pouff tail." Kaiba spun around and looked at the molecook in horror. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. He slowly put a paw protectively over his tail and scrutinized the cook, then slowly exited the kitchen. One could hear him as he followed Sister Aeva

"That ancient, spoon wielding airbag," He said indignantly. "Threaten a poor chap's ears and tailscut, will she, wot? The nerve- Yoww!" The hare suddenly cried out in pain. Sister Aeva's stern voice could be heard.

"One more word out of you, sir, and I'll have that mouth of yours closed permanently. I believe Sister Emalina will happily oblige." Not another peep was heard from the hare.

Abbot Mackensey sighed hopelessly and then turned to Mum Sybil.

"I am truly sorry about all this, Sybil. Would you like any help cleaning up the mess?" The molemum looked at him and shook her velvety head.

"Noo, thankee, zurr, we clean up oirselves. Ye best be goin back t' thoi h'abbotly duties, hurr, hurr." Mackensey nodded and smiled at the old mole. She had a lot of pride for a creature so small.

"Very well, good day to you then," The Abbot exited the kitchen, followed by Barad and his troupe of Dibbuns.

"Perhaps I should have stayed upstairs after all?" Mackensey said, thinking aloud.

"What was that, mate?" Barad asked.

"What? Oh, nothing, just thinking aloud; seems even a little walk can give one more than they expected." Barad chuckled

"Aye, mate. I ne'er seen Mum Sybil on a rampage before. Oh well, I guess a first time fer everything."

Behind the two older creatures, the dibbuns were discussing the incident among themselves. In their eyes, Mum Sybil was a kind and generous old creature, even though she was strict when it came to her kitchen. To see her go at Kaiba in such a manner was a great change for them.

"Didja see how she hitted him wiv dat bigga spoon?" a squirrelmaid asked her friend, Myna. The tiny molemaid shook her head

"Burr aye, oi not seen Mum Sybal beein soo mad."

"She was gonna kill mista Kaiba!" the little hogmaid Sloey burst out. She was immediately shushed by her friends and covered her mouth with her paws.

"I hoppen she neva cut my tail off." A little squirrel named Turfen whispered as they exited the great hall. It was at this point that Barad stopped and turned around.

"Well, young'un, if'n ya want to keep that fine, bushy,tail of yours intact, I say ye learn a lesson from this: Don't go theivin' im ole Mum Sybil's kitchen! That goes fer all of you rogues." The dibbuns nodded solemnly. "All right then," The old otter said

"Be gone wiv ya, spread the word to every young'un ye see!" There were whoops and shrieks as the little group went off in search of their comrades across the grounds. A mousebabe named Luen, who was smaller than the rest trundled behind, but was still very determined

"Don' go ina kichens, o' Mum chopov yo taiw." He chanted, waving a small stick." Mackensey watched the spectacle and shook his head.

"Now look what you've done, you great rogue, you've turned them into a shrieking mob."

"Aye," the otter replied, crossing his arms. "But think of how many pies an' tarts will be saved from greedy paws; I think Mum Sybil will be thanking me in the end." He began to walk in the direction of the wall. The mouse followed him, nodding in acknowledgement.

"That is true, friend. I hope Kaiba learned his lesson as well."

The tall warrior made a sound of disdain

"That old stomach on legs? He's a true hare through and through, and a true scoffbag at that. No amount of punishing's ever going ta learn him a lesson. He's too determined for that." Barad chuckled. "He'll be back to his old ways soon enough."

"Hope fully not until after the summer feast," Mackensey said, "Mum Sybil and her helpers need to prepare enough food without having to compensate for his thieving." The otter responded with a soft 'hm' of acknowledgement." The two friends began to climb the steps to the wall top. Once they reached the battlements, the old Abbot was huffing. He raised a paw and leaned against the stones.

"Just a moment, old friend, phew, I'm not as young as I used to be." Barad rested his back against the top of the battlements and waited for the mouse to catch his breath. After a few moments, Mackensey straightened up and looked around the wall top.

"It seem like ages since I was up here." He looked down the stairs. "I don't seem to remember those being quite so steep." The abbot shrugged and then both he and Barad began to walk along the wall top. To the right, the vast green expanse of Mossflower Wood spread like a carpet, intermingled with those trees already changing to their autumn colors.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Mackensey said absentmindedly. Barad looked at him questioningly, then saw what he meant and nodded.

"Aye, mate, it's me favorite time of the season. The leaves just start to change, an' all the good vittles are bein' brought in; nothin' better than a juicy apple or two ta get a chap back on his paws. And don't forget about the feast."

"Oh, how could anybeast forget about that?" Mackensey said, chuckling, "Why, the dibbuns have already begun pestering me about what new foods we'll have this year. I tell you, their curiousness makes my old head spin." Barad laughed

"Oho, mate, I remember those days; runnin' about without a care in the world; old Abbess Kyra threatenin' ta twist our ears off if we got into trouble; Sister Arvina and her awful medicinals."

"Oh, don't remind me of Sister Arvina; I can still taste at terrible nettle brew she made me take." The mouse made a face of disgust.

"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to unearth yer darkest memories." Barad said. The Abbot waved his paw dismissively

"No, it's all right, I ruined the mood myself; I should thinking about the feast. What with the way Mum Sybil likes to whip up concoctions, I'm sure we won't be disappointed. Speaking of which, your sister, is she coming back again this year?"

"Who, Rhana? That ole spritely willow frond, she wouldn't miss an autumn feast for the world, mate; of course she'll be back. I think she's bringin' her little brood wiv her this year. I 'aven't seen'em since they was babes, they must be seven or eight seasons old by now." Abbot Mackensey smiled and nodded.

"Young ones are a wonderful thing." He replied, "I admit that they can be troublesome, but I don't think we can live without them; they keep old beasts like us from going stale with seriousness," The otter warrior laughed heartily and gave the Abbot a gentle thump on the shoulder.

"Hahaarr! Right ye are, mate, nothin' truer'n that," Mackensey had to steady himself from the friendly pat. The old mouse looked and saw another set of steps heading down from the wall top.

"Well," he said, "It was very nice to walk with you Barad; but, I'm afraid that I still have a manuscript to rewrite. Brother Lorenzo would be most unhappy if he found that I left him a pile of work to do."

The otter nodded.

"Aye, ye should be goin' then. I've got ta get back to the orchards anyway; they'll y will be wondering what in the world became of me. The two creatures descended the narrow wooden steps and walked together until they reached the door to the Great Hall. It was here that they were met by a young mousemaid. She ran over, grinning and waving.

"Mista Barad! Mista Barad!" She said and stopped in front of the tall otter, craning her neck to look up at him.

"Where's you been?" she asked. Before Barad could answer, the little maid pulled on his tunic

"Comeon! Bruda James needja help." Barad smiled down at the little mouse

"Well then, young missy, we shouldn't keep'im waitin' now should we?"

The mousemaid shook her head fervently.

"Alrighty then, you lead the way, young'un." Barad reached down and took the mouse's tiny paw in his own, then allowed her to lead him towards the orchards. Abbot Mackensey watched the strange pair as they walked away; the tiny mousemaid and the tall grizzled warrior who had to stoop to hold her paw.

The Abbot smiled. There were few places better for a young one to grow up than at Redwall Abbey. Here, they were surrounded by friends and creatures that cared about and loved for them. He wished that every creature could know the kindness and hospitality that was always offered with in the sandstone walls of Redwall. The Abbot sighed and turned to enter the Abbey; perhaps he would act on this kindness and visit Brother Lorenzo in the infirmary.

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**Another chapter down, and it was very fun to write I might add (The kitchen incident is my favorite part) So, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you've stayed with the story thus far, I thank you very much =)**

**I'm sorry if you feel that the story is dragging out. I promise that the next chapter will get into the main blow of the story. I'm really excited about it, and I will post the next chapter as soon as possible. Thank you =)**

**Review? Please?**


	6. In the Dark of the Night

Chapter 5

**Okay, this chapter is waaayy overdue! I apologize =( I rewrote it so many times to get everything to sound right; I think I finally got it.**

**I guess I've been trying to avoid the serious stuff because I don't write it as well. I also had a little trouble with making the vermin sound like true bad guys, but I listened to the book Redwall on CD with all of the different voice actors, and it has helped immensely (The guy who plays Cluny is amazing!) Thank you to Barias Meqquex for telling me that Cluny was Italian and sparking my interest in the book on CD! (U should all go to his forum and join his role-play)**

**Thanks also to everyone who has reviewed so far. I still can't believe how many I've gotten for only six chapters!**

**I don't own Redwall**

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Far to the west, the weather was beautiful. Thick mountains of puffy clouds floated high in the sky like clumps of new cotton. The last of the flowers were blooming along the edges of the trees. Wrensong creek bubbled along, it's cool waters. The afternoon sun shone brightly from its place in the sky. However, the warm, inviting day found no appreciation among the helter-skelter vermin camp situated at the edge of Mossflower wood. A lone, scraggly, crow flying over Wrensong Creek had a birds-eye view of the camp: a few makeshift shelters scattered in a clearing, with one larger one close to the tree line. The crow cawed once and then turned to the northeast. He would not find good hunting here; vermin could get a creature through a lean time, but they did not taste the best. However, there was one good thing about them: vermin did mean killing, and killing meant good food and east pickings. The sly bird cawed once more, grinning maliciously if ever a crow could.

Below on the ground, the black shadow went mostly unnoticed; most of the hordebeasts were either taking advantage of the stop and sleeping, or gathered around small fires eating whatever they had caught from the abundance around them. Birds, fish, and other food stuffs were everywhere, free for the taking. It was much easier that in the south where they had come from. This camp did not house the entire horde, only the better fighters and trackers; about three score beasts. The rest of the horde was encamped farther south, about three days behind. This system allowed Ulvaey's group to travel swiftly and without delays.

Although the decision to move had come as a surprise for some, moral had increased greatly. A new setting meant plentiful food sources and opportunities for pillaging. Only one small settlement of wood mice had been massacred so far, but Ulvaey had kept his horde glittering-eyed with vivid tales of the Abbey and what awaited them there; riches beyond their wildest dreams, and plenty of killings to be done. However, the fox was careful not to speak a word of the magical sword. He didn't want anybeast but himself to have it, and there were plenty who would eagerly kill him for a chance to get it first. However, though Ulvaey did not know it. His sudden eager mood and secretiveness had not gone unnoticed.

At that very moment, a few who had noticed were gathered around a low fire, close to the edge of the camp. There were four of them: a stoat, two weasels, and a ferret with patchy fur. The stoat, a wily looking creature with two scars across his muzzle, was stirring the fire with a short stick. The ferret was poking at four fat perch that lay sizzling over the coals. He didn't seem pleased that his companion kept stirring the fire. He tried to grab the stick

"Quit poking der fire, id'ot! Yew want embers in yer fish?" The stoat grumbled, but threw the stick into the fire. The ferret narrowed his eyes and then went back to tending the fish. After a while, he deemed one to be done and speared it with the stick, pulling it off of the flames and dropping it on a flat leaf. The larger of the two weasels grabbed the stick and speared another of the perch. The stoat, whose name was Redak, looked at the weasel and the ferret with slightly narrowed eyes, and then watched as the smaller weasel gingerly reached for the last perch. Redak shoved the smaller creature's paw away and grabbed the fish instead. However, he burned his own paw on the hot grease before he could drop it onto a leaf.

"Gah!" he yelled, and put his paw in his mouth. The big weasel and the ferret laughed

"Aww, too hot fer ya, Redak?" The ferret said, mockingly. "Yew need yer ole mum ta kiss it better?" There was more raucous laughter. Redak was not pleased. The little weasel started to chuckle, but was instantly silenced by a glare from the stoat. Redak dusted the fish off and began to eat it with fervor, tearing off large chunks of the flaky meat. The ferret, named Fleabit, tossed the bones of his fish in the fire and began to pick at his few, crooked teeth with filthy claw.

"I says we should stay 'ere." He said, matter-of –factly. His companions looked at him, with the exception of the larger weasel, who was intent with his fish. The smaller weasel, a thin creature named Hakka, spoke quietly.

"But wot' bout that Abbey place der chief's been talkin' 'bout?" The ferret rolled his eyes.

"Wot 'bout it? We don' even know if it esists. Ulvaey don' even know, e's jus goin' by 'is ould Seer. Dat vixen's all broke in her head anyways." The ferret gestured around them. "Dis place got vittles for a life time; fat fish in de water an' pretty eatin' birds in de trees. Why bother goin' farther? Dis be an easy life." He leaned back against a rock. Redak spat a fish bone in Fleabit's direction. He was rewarded with a malicious look from the ferret.

"We go where da chief tells us. An easy life makes good vermin loik us softies, Fleabit." He tossed the remains of his fish onto the coals, sending up a small shower of embers "Too mucha this an' we'll go all peaceable and fat loik dose mice we slayed back by de coast." The stoat belched loudly. 'Sides, I wanna part a dat h'abbey treasure."

Fleabit scoffed and spoke with disdain.

"Der ain't no treasure, lumpbrain, even Hakka knows dat." The scrawny weasel looked slightly hurt, but he didn't dare say anything; he was used to being put down by those bigger than him. Redak narrowed his eyes

"'Ow d'you know? You ain't seen it."

"I don't need ta see it, slobberchops, I know it don't esist. Ulvaey's just trickin' us all sneaky loik. Yew've seen those green eyes a his when 'e talks about it. He knows there's no treasure. He' hidin'-uph" The ferret was stopped mid-sentence by a blow to his stomach. He glared at the big weasel. "Oi! Wot was-" he stopped again as he saw what the weasel meant. A fox had emerged from the trees a few yards away, one with green eyes; it was Uriun. A fat wood pigeon was slung over his shoulder. As he passed, the four vermin sat completely quiet and still, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Hakka nibbled on his fish innocently, watching the fox out of the corner of his bleary eyes. Once the fox was out of sight, the big weasel spoke.

"Yew think he heard?" he asked. Redak turned back and shook his head

"No, don't think 'e did." He turned and glared at Fleabit, giving him another shove.

"Don't talk so loudly, yew idjit! The chief'd skin us all alive if'n 'e thought we was plottin' 'gainst him." The ferret considered this. He had seen the same thing happen with his own eyes; Ulvaey was merciless when it came to dealing out punishments. He looked in the direction the Uriun had gone and shook his head.

"I don' think 'e heard; ye said so yer self." The group turned back to their tiny fire, trying to make the best of the stop for rest.

* * *

In fact, Uriun had heard the ferret's rant perfectly. He knew how easy it would have been to report the ferret. He and his companions would be questioned, and no doubt, the others would push it off on Fleabit to save their own skins. It was the way of vermin; one looked out for himself first, it was necessary for survival. However, the fox was in no mood to go to the warlord about the matter. Ulvaey had been in a generally bad mood lately; every creature knew better than to bother the warlord with bad news when he was in a bad mood.

Uriun was not surprised with the ferret. He would have been surprised if there were never any harsh words said about the warlord. It was common enough. However, none had ever dared challenge the fox to his face. Woe to the unfortunate creature who ever did. The green-eyed warlord soon put any conspirator in his place…permanently.

However, Uriun was interested in what the ferret had said; Ulvaey was hiding something. The fox had never really thought about this, but now that he did, he wouldn't have put it past the warlord. Had he not been taught that in order to keep the horde under one's control, certain things must be kept secret. Uriun had heard it from his father many times. The fox thought back through the time that had passed since the horde had come back to the north. He tried to remember how his father had acted; had he seemed paranoid, nervous, impatient, or preoccupied;

Now that Uriun thought about it, he had; and now so more than ever, in fact. The young fox began to wonder if the strange Redwall Abbey his father had been telling the horde about was the reason for the preoccupation. It made sense. Ulvaey had been going on about all that was to be had when they finally got there. From what he said, it sounded like easy pickings. A building full of mice and simple woodland creatures would be relatively easy to capture and plunder. However, whenever Ulvaey had spoken of the abbey, his green eyes had acquired a strange light as if his mind elsewhere.  
Fleabit was right; the crafty warlord must have known more than he was letting on about.

Uriun finally reached his shelter. It was a small, make-shift tent consisting of a cloak draped over some low hanging pine branches, with a small circle of earth for a fire pit. It wasn't much, but it kept the rain off. Uriun set down his bow and arrows and the bird and poked through the fire pit. There were a few live coals left, so he went into the woods and returned with an armload of wood. He hadn't eaten anything since the day before and was hungry. The thought of a fresh, juicy wood pigeon made his mouth water. The fox arranged the wood and prepared his catch. After a while, he had a meal of fresh pigeon, tender and juicy. The satisfied fox leaned back against the thick pine trunk and picked at his teeth with a bone. He sat for a long time, listening to the strange quiet that one would not expect in a vermin camp. Perhaps it was the anxiousness for the scouts to return so that they could move on; perhaps there would be another settlement to pillage. Or, it may have been Ulvaey's bad mood. It was often heralded by a feeling of uneasiness.

Suddenly, Uriun's keen ears heard the sound of swift paw steps, and he looked up to see one of Ulvaey's captains, a tall, burly, fox named Drakclaw, coming toward him. The fox stopped in front the fire pit. He jerked his head.

"Chief wants ye at his tent, now; come on, quick-like!" he said before Uriun could question. With no time to respond, the green-eyed fox rose and began to follow Drakclaw as the captain trotted in the direction of Ulvaey's tent. Uriun wondered why he was being summoned. He hoped that it was nothing bad. He didn't want to have to face his father when he was in a bad mood. The two foxes soon reached Ulvaey's tent, and quickly went inside. Ulvaey was sitting on an improvised chair made of a short log. A half eaten bluegill was lying on a leaf by his footpaws. The two scouts, a short ferret with a red bandana, and a weasel missing half of his tail were standing in front of him. The ferret was relating the results of their scouting.

"Der's a group 'a otters east down de river, Chief; maybe a days' march." He said. Ulvaey's face remained expressionless, but his voice was impatient.

"How many?" The ferret shrugged

"Dunno," Ulvaey jumped up and grabbed the ferret by his tunic and shook him.

"Id'oit! Dat was the point of scouting!" The terrified ferret raised his paws pleadingly.

"We didn't 'ave a chance ta count'em, yer lordship, oi swear! He sputtered. Ulvaey's glare only intensified, his green eyes glinting dangerously. Knowing that his very life depended on it, the ferret began spilling words "We got close an' tried, but de saw us afore we could. De started slingin' rocks at us we woulda been dead beasts if'n we 'ad stayed 'round der! But der was lotsa females, and young'uns and old'uns too." The weasel nodded fervently in his companion's defense.

"Aye, m'lord, l-lotsa weak'uns; an' a fox!" Ulvaey's head jerked to look at the weasel. The half-tailed creature shrank back fearfully under the unyielding stare of the green-eyes. The fox dropped the ferret and turned to the other scout.

"Wot did you say?" he asked. The weasel gulped

"I-I said, uh… w-we."

"Quit yer stuttering, weasel, an' speak!" Ulvaey growled. And speak the weasel did.

"Der was a fox loik yerself, m'lord. She was goin' round loik one'a dem. Just tho she were an otter!"

"She?" Uriun asked before he could stop himself. The weasel glanced at him quickly

"Aye, t'was a vixen, looked jus loik yer, green eyes an' erythin'." Uriun's eyebrows crinkled. Ulvaey looked at his son with narrowed eyes and then looked back at the weasel.

"Yer sure she 'ad green eyes." The weasel nodded

"Aye, lord, no mistakin' it." Ulvaey didn't respond. The assembled beasts waited in strained silence as the warlord sat back down. After a few tense moments, Ulvaey looked up at the scouts.

"Leave us." The weasel and the ferret hurriedly crossed their right paws over their chests and scrambled out of the tent, relieved to be through with the ordeal. Nuvak, Drakclaw, and Uriun were left standing in silence; Ulvaey looked at them.

"Uriun," he said. The fox straightened up.

"Yes, m'lord?" The warlord didn't look at him.

"Take a score of de best fighters and take care of that otter tribe. We can't have them holding us up when we go down the river. Take Ujjain with you, she'll know what to do. Let them know who's in charge here now" Uriun nodded curtly. Inside he was pleased. He had been waiting for a chance to show his capabilities. The fox saluted.

"Aye, m'lord, t'will be done

Ulvaey nodded.

"An as for dat fox; if yew see her, kill her." Uriun nodded again and left the tent.

Nuvak turned to Ulvaey. The warlord's face was surprisingly calm. If anything was to be known about the warlord, it was that his moods could change at a moment's notice.

"Are ye sure e's ready, m'lord?" the fox asked. Ulvaey furrowed his brow.

"Why wouldn't 'e be? He's should be able to 'andle a few hordebeasts. Besides, it saves me the trouble. Now, go an' fetch me another of these fish; an' make sure it's good and fat, not a scrawny little one. An' you," he gestured to Drakclaw, "Bring some fresh water." The two captains saluted and exited the tent.

As soon as they were gone, Ulvaey sat back down on the log; he was troubled. The scout's report worried him; who was the strange fox that lived among the otters? And even stranger, why did she look so closely like him. The coloring was not unusual, most foxes were some color of red or brown, but the green eyes that Jibpaw had mentioned made him feel paranoid. Ulvaey's father had been feared for the strange coloring of his eyes, and it lived on through the surname that Ulvaey now carried. It was a strange trait, rarely, if ever, seen in foxes. The warlord rested his chin on his paws and brooded; he did not want the burden of this on his mind when he was so close to attaining his goal.

* * *

Immediately after he left the tent, Uriun went in search of Ujjain. The hordebeast in question was a slim female rat with pale, moon-like eyes, and deep black fur mottled with patches of dark grey. She moved with as much noise as an owl on the wing, and on a dark night, might have been mistaken for a mere shadow. Her knife throwing was unmatched within the Zahir, and she knew more about ambushing than any other beast in the horde. Uriun finally found the jet creature under the drooping branches of an ancient pine, sharpening one of her many stilettos with a flat rock. Ujjain did not look up when he approached, but continued to sharpen the weapon.

"What do you want, warlord's son?" she asked. Uriun had always found Ujjain to be mysterious. According to the other hordebeasts, she had come from somewhere far south in the swamps. She had a strange reedy voice with an accent, an often referred to herself in third person.

"I'm takin' a group of fighters down the river ta ambush an otter tribe." Uriun said. The rat still did not look t him, but began to sharpen another of her stilettos.

"Then why do you come to Ujjain?" She asked. Uriun looked smugly at her. Ujjain was looking for flattery. The fox played along.

"Because, the chief referred to you personally. Nobeast knows more about ambushes, Ujjain. And no beast in the Zahir can throw a knife." The rat allowed herself a smug grin; she had heard what she wanted to hear. She turned the stiletto lovingly in her paws as if it were a prized jewel. Suddenly, her ears flicked. She jumped up and flung the knife. A few yards away, a woodpigeon that had been chased up by two stoats fell with a squawk and landed back in the tall grass it had just flown from. Uriun stared at the rat; he had barely seen her move it had been so fast. Ujjain smiled.

"The warlord's son is right." She said, and looked up at Uriun, "Nobeast throws a knife better than Ujjain."

* * *

Thekka had never seen the village so tense. It was as if a cloud had suddenly descended, bringing with it a feeling of foreboding. Creatures went about their tasks as usual, but there was a definite look of fear about all. The vixen witnessed this as she returned from the river with a basket of fresh watercress. The few otters she saw looked at her shortly, giving curt nods in greeting, or stared at her with narrowed eyes.

Truth be told, the sighting of the vermin had affected Thekka much more than the holt itself. The fox knew that creatures of that sort had not been seen so close to the village in over ten seasons. The fact that some had been seen worried the vixen. If these had been scouts, then one could only imagine what lay behind them.

Thekka suddenly looked up and was met by the grim, suspicious face of an old, stooped, male otter sitting outside of his hut. Thekka tried her best to ignore the look, but even then, she felt uncomfortable as she hurried past him. Unfortunately, when the scouts had been seen, there had been a small episode involving Daran, one of the retired elders. He had made a speech about how Thekka was the reason for the vermin coming, that it was an omen of bad luck and how Kettu should have never brought her here.

Thekka didn't care what Kettu had taught her about forgiving other creatures and letting insults roll off of her back; she hated Daran. She hated him with a passion. Sometimes, she would even find herself wishing that he would somehow die so that she could be rid of him. The thoughts were disturbing, but for some reason, Thekka never felt bad about them. In fact, she would sometimes think about possible ways to kill the old otter; poison his food, push him into a deep part of the river and watch him drown, strangle him, and all manner of things. Thekka had never attempted anything, out of the knowing that if she was to be caught, Kettu would be beside herself with grief and she herself would be sent away, if not killed. However, she was finding it harder and harder to tolerate Daran. It was because of his outburst that the tribe was now looking on her with more suspicion than ever.

Thekka passed a small group of half grown kits playing around some of the huts with sticks. When they saw her coming, the tallest of them pulled his companions behind one of the huts. As Thekka passed, the kit whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"Der's one of 'em, mates." He said. One of his friends snickered

"Think ye can hit it wid yer spear?" he asked, "It might be dangerous." The first otter chuckled. Thekka stopped abruptly and breathed in deeply to calm herself down. She slowly turned and looked back at the kits. They hid when she turned, but the vixen kept her eyes trained on the spot where they had been.

"Yer mum's been lookin' fer ye, Nikko." She said, frowning, "Ye should go an' find her." Slowly, a young otter came out from behind the hut. He was skinny, and had a smug grin on his face.

"She wouldn't be worried if'n those vermin 'adn't come. Me ole granpa says dat your the reason they came in the first place. Maybe if yew left, vermin, they'd leave us alone!

Nikko and his friends ran off

"Yeah, go back to yer own kind!" one of them called back mocking .

Thekka was left in utter shock, the basket clutched tightly in her hands. She stood there, staring blankly at nothing. What had just happened? Even the kits? Were these not the same young ones she had looked after and played with? Now they were taunting her, sneering at her like she was some horrible thing that had crawled up from the very depths of Hellgates. Thekka suddenly felt a tear come and make its way down her cheek. The vixen shook slightly as she wiped the tear away. She turned before anybeast could see and all but ran back to the hut.

Kettu was peeling pond-lily tubers when Thekka burst through the doorway. The vixen dropped her basket of watercress next to the door.

"I can't take it anymore!" she said and began to pace wildly, her breath coming out in gasps. Kettu stared at her daughter, caught off guard by her sudden outburst. Thekka felt more tears coming to her eyes. She tried vainly to wipe them away. The otterwife dropped her peeling knife and ran to the frantic vixen. She wrapped Thekka in a tight hug and let her cry.

"Shh, shhh," she said soothingly, "It's okay." Thekka pushed her away; she had finally snapped.

"No, it's not!" she said, looking at the otter in disbelief. Kettu was taken aback; she had never seen Thekka act like this before. The vixen was not one to normally show her feelings. "Everytime somethin' 'appens, ye say that! But it never gets better!" Kettu tried to calm the hysterical fox, but Thekka only cut her off. "Ever since I was young, I've been looked down on! E'rybeast looks at me like I'm not to be trusted! I can't even walk through the village wivout somebeast staring at me!" the vixen stopped for a moment to breathe. Kettu was at a loss for words. For one of the first times, she didn't know what to say to comfort her adopted daughter. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again.

"I don't belong here! I never have!" Thekka turned and stood facing the window, growling in frustration, her breath coming out in pants.

"Why didn't you just leave me there?" Thekka's eyes were blurred with tears of anger. She didn't want to hear Kettu make any more excuses. "I'm just a vermin anyway." Kettu frowned suddenly grabbed Thekka by the shoulders and turned her around. She shook her a little.

"Now you listen ta me." She said firmly. "I don't ever wanna hear yew say that again." Thekka's green eyes stared at the rush mat covered floor. "Look at me." Kettu said. The vixen raised her head. Kettu's face was serious. "I don't care what anybeast thinks of me. I don't care if I'm banished from this clan. I will never stop caring about you." Thekka blinked back tears and snuffed, as she tried to stop crying. Kettu ran a paw over her head, comfortingly. Thekka wrapped her arms around the otter mum and buried her face in her shoulder. Kettu hugged the vixen tightly. After a long while, Thekka pulled away and sighed, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. Her breath was still shaky, but she had calmed down. Kettu patted her on the shoulder

"We love you Thekka, Shad and I both; never forget that." The vixen looked at the otter and smiled slightly, then nodded

"All right." Kettu smiled

"Good," She went over and picked up her peeling knife again. "Now, when you're all better, Bluepaw was lookin' for ya, 'e said he'd be down by the fish traps." Thekka instantly perked up at the mention of her best friend.

"Do ya think he's still there?" She asked hopefully. Kettu looked at her

"I don't see why not? 'e sounded loik 'e really wanted ta talk to you." Thekka looked at the door way. Kettu grinned

"Be gone with ye, run! I can finish up here." The vixen all but jumped up and was out of the hut in a flash.

Once she was gone, the ottermum shook her head and smiled. She was glad that her adopted daughter had at least one creature who chose to be her friend. Bluepaw was perfect for her; he was always trying to build her up and make her laugh. Kettu had always been nervous about Thekka being accepted, and the comical otter had been the answer to all her prayers. Still, Kettu worried about Thekka, now more than ever. The vixen was growing up; she wouldn't be able to stay with the tribe forever. Kettu had been thinking about it a lot lately. What would Thekka do when she left? Where would she go? Would she be accepted? Would she ever be able to have a family of her own and live peacefully? Kettu didn't want to dwell on it, but the truth could not be ignored. The otter sighed as she added the cut up tubers to the watercress; why were the important questions always the unanswerable ones?

* * *

Thekka knew exactly which fish traps Bluepaw would be at. The otter had set a few farther up the river so that they would be away from the jam on the main stretch. Less traps meant less competition, and more fish to be caught. The trap stretch was also where Bluepaw went to think, and he and Thekka often talked there. The vixen bounded through the trees like an eager kit, skirting bramble patches and hurdling scrub bushes. Bluepaw had shown her a short cut that came out of the woods right by the traps, and it saved one quite a bit of distance.

Thekka was happy that Bluepaw had come looking for her. At a time like this, he was one of the only ones whom she could talk to. The vixen passed the marker that told her she was almost to the stream, a gnarled oak tree with a knot that bore a striking resemblance to an otter head. She slowed down as soon as she saw the water through the trees. She came to the edge of the woods. Before her was a calmly running stream, edged by short, thick grass, and cattails on the other side. One covered basket already lay on the bank, filled with fish no doubt. Sure enough, Bluepaw was there, another basket in paw, lifting more fish from a partially submerged trap. Thekka watched him for a moment. The otter had grown over the summer months. He was taller now, with more muscle in his arms, and a broader chest. If Thekka had been an otter, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have found him rather handsome. The vixen smiled fondly and made her way to the water's edge. Bluepaw was so absorbed that he didn't notice her at first.

"Havin' any luck?" she asked jokingly. Bluepaw looked up, startled by the sudden voice, and then grinned widely.

"Thekka! I was wonderin' when yew'd show yerself, mate; I was startin' to get lonely." The vixen shook her head at the otter and put her paws on her hips

"Oh, you can't be that lonely; 'sides, yew have all these fish to keep you company." She gestured to the traps in the water. Bluepaw cocked a paw at her, smirking as he did so.

"Yes, and they're very heavy, so get that little red tail of yours down here an' help me."

Thekka laughed and waded out into the water. It was chilly, even with the uncommonly warm weather they were having. Bluepaw handed her the basket; it already held two small perch, their iridescent scales glittering in the sun.

"Kettu said that yew came lookin' for me earlier." Bluepaw tipped the fish trap sideways to catch a particularly elusive fish. He lifted it out, banged it behind the gills, and dropped it into the basket with the others. He nodded

"I wanted to talk." Bluepaw began to reset the trap with some chunks of crayfish. Thekka raised an eyebrow

"About what?" she suddenly felt indecisive. Bluepaw's voice had sounded troubled, it worried her. The otter set the trap back down.

"I've just been a little worried about you, is all." Thekka's eyebrows rose again. She was used to Bluepaw watching out for her, but this was different.

"Me?" The otter nodded, and then beckoned to her. She followed him up the stream to the next trap. Bluepaw spoke as he opened the willow box

"Yew seem so withdrawn lately, since those scouts were seen; you ain't acting like yourself." The otter saw Thekka's look of confusion and continued. "Don't think I 'aven't noticed; anybeast with one good eye can see it; yew walk around like yer dazed. All the sparkle's gone outta yer eyes." Thekka didn't answer. She silently put a tiny sunfish back into the water, not making eye contact with her friend. The talk was making her uncomfortable. Bluepaw tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," Thekka looked up quickly. The tall otter's brow was furrowed

"Have yew even been listening?" Thekka gave a forlorn sigh.

"Yes; I don't want ta talk about it." Bluepaw's comeback was one of protest.

"Well, I do; Thekka, I'm not joking, there's somethin' goin' on-"

"There's nothin goin' on! The vixen shot back angrily, her green eyes glinting. "There's nothin's wrong with me; why does everyone think that something's wrong with me, I'm fine! Just drop it!" The vixen nearly flung the basket of fish in anger. She closed her eyes to calm herself, and then felt a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach as she remembered who she had just yelled at. Immediately, she wished she could take the hastily spoken words back. Bluepaw didn't deserve to have to listen to her angry words. The vixen looked up at her friend with rueful eyes. The otter stood dumbstruck, his lips pressed together in a line. He waited quietly like a reprimanded kit. Thekka's face became one of dejection.

"Oh, Bluepaw, I'm- you were only trying to- I'm sor-" New tears began to form in Thekka's eyes as she tried to apologize. Bluepaw's face softened; he put a big, comforting paw on the vixen's shoulder.

"It's alright, mate; I understand." He smiled, "No more depressing talk from me, alright? On me honor as a Streamgale." The otter saluted. Thekka looked up and managed a small affectionate smile.

"Wot would I do without you?" She asked, shaking her head. Bluepaw all but whooped with joy.

"By the claw, that's the Thekka I know!" He thumped her shoulder heartily and grinned.

"Now, wot say we get the rest of these traps emptied; I just remembered a story I wanted to tell you, something about a fat old vole and a barrel of turnips…"

Thekka's outburst was forgotten as she listened to the comical otter weave the curious tale. And so, the two friends spent the rest of the afternoon together, thigh deep in the water, empting fish traps, and laughing till their sides ached as each tried to out-do the other with jokes and stories. Nothing could have been better than this.

* * *

Uriun Greeneyes blinked in the darkness of his hiding place. The fox brushed away a curious gnat that kept flying at his eyes. His fur was mottled with patches of dried mud for camouflage, and his bow was slung over his back with a full quiver of arrows. He looked through the tall marsh grass to his left. Close by, barely visible in the darkness, was another fox. He made eye contact with Uriun, who shook his head. It was not time yet. Behind them, a score of Zahir hordebeasts waited silently in the grass, watching for the signal from the green-eyed fox. Next to Uriun, Tenku, the ferret was crouched on the soft ground. The stalks of grass stuck in his headband made it look like he was wearing some sort of woodland tiara. Like Uriun, he was also camouflaged with patches of mud and grass on his fur. The scout was gazing off to the right, as if waiting for something.

"Do you see her?" Uriun whispered. Tenku shook his head.

"We won't see that shadow until she wants us to see 'er." Uriun nodded. The ferret was right; Ujjain would come back in her own time. The thoughts had hardly passed his head, when a lithe, black form suddenly materialized between the two vermin. Hearing Ujjain's reedy voice an inch from his ear almost made Uriun jump.

"I have returned, Warlord's son." The rat said, "The camp is as the scouts described: a collection of huts down a side stream."

"Very good." Uriun said, "Did you see any guards?" Ujjain made a little scoffing sound.

"Dees otters are foolish beasts; there were two, standing out in the open with a torch on a stick; a blind newt could have seen them. Ujjain will take care of them." Uriun thought he saw the black rat genuinely smile, but he couldn't tell for sure.

"When the second one falls, move." Ujjain said "That is the signal." Uriun nodded. With a soft rustle of grass and a shadow of black, the rat was gone. The fox looked over to his left. Itav was watching him intently. Uriun nodded and raised his hand. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, the vermin made their way towards the unsuspecting otters.

Ujjain slipped silently through the wet grass. The lithe rat kept her pawsteps light, so as not to make any noise on the muddy ground. She was not called a living shadow for nothing. Even better, a soft breeze was blowing that night, giving on a perfect cover from accidental noise. Suddenly, the rat stopped; she had reached her targets.

Before her, on a curve in the bank, two otters were sitting on large stones. A pine torch tied to a pole was stuck in the ground nearby. The two creatures appeared to be talking to one another, but even though she had keen ears, Ujjain could not pick up a single word. The rat moved forward inch by inch, as close as she dared; if she went too close, she risked a chance at being seen. Ujjain pulled two stilettos from her hip pouch. She stuck one in her mouth and held onto the other. She judged the range between herself and the guards. The land here was lower than the bank, and the reeds were longer. She would need to move closer if she wanted a clear shot. About two feet ahead, there was a patch where the reeds were not so thick. It was risky going any closer, but Ujjain had no choice. She moved forward. _Snap!_ The rat's paw came down on a dry twig. Ujjain froze. One of the otters jerked his head towards the noise.

"What was that?" he said. He stood up and stared across the marshy flat. Ujjain didn't dare move. The otter seemed to be staring right at her. The rat squinted so that her eyes would not glint in the light; she fingered the knife in her paw. The other otter stood up and looked as well

"What?"

"I heard somethin' snap, over there in the grass." The otter pointed right to the place where Ujjain was hidden. Both creatures watched for what seemed like forever; the rat's muscles began to cramp from staying still. Finally, the first otter shrugged and turned away.

"Never mind, must have jus' been the wi-" The other otter turned to him. Immediately, his eyes widened in horror

His friend stood there, gasping; a small knife was lodged in the back of his neck. He stumbled over and began to choke and cough up blood. The second otter was shocked; all he could do was stare the dying creature. He turned in the direction the knife had come from. The last thing he saw was something hurtling out of the darkness toward him.

Ujjain's knife caught the second guard between the eyes. He was dead almost instantly. The rat grinned morbidly and giggled to herself in triumph; she had not failed after all. The rat got up and made her way quickly to the bank, glad to be out of the stinking marsh. She could hear rustling form down the river. Uriun and the rest of the hordebeasts would arrive soon.

Meanwhile, Ujjain inspected her two victims. Both were tall, husky creatures, formidable fighters no doubt; still, they had been no match for her. In the end, even the small and silent could bring down the strong. She looked the otters over and took a little carved charm form the belt of one as a souvenir. Suddenly, the rat got the feeling that somebeast was watching her; she looked up.

There, standing in the middle of the narrow path, was a tall otter. He was staring at her, dumbfounded. The two creatures watched each other in silence, until the otter began to shout.

"Enemies! Enemies in the village!" The otter turned and began to sprint down the path. Cursing angrily , Ujjain took off after the otter, pulling another knife from her pouch. However, she couldn't get a good shot at him. The rat cursed again; the ambush was ruined! This stupid otter had spoiled everything! Suddenly, as the rat rounded a tree, she saw the otter on the ground. She cried out with joy. The silly creature must have tripped in the dark. Ujjain jumped on him. The otter struggled and tried to pull her off, but it was too late

"Enemies!" He yelled again before Ujjain silenced him forever. The otter's head fell limply. From behind Ujjain, the hordebeast appeared

"Quickly, warlord's son!" The rat said, "They know we're coming; get them now!" Uriun quickly issued orders

"Go into the huts." He said "Kill all you see. You two, Serug, Viat, find a spot and start shooting those flamin' arrows of yours at the roofs. You know your orders, leave nobeast alive!"

* * *

Thekka wasn't sure what woke her first. One minute she was fast asleep, and the next, she heard somebeast yelling, and Kettu was shaking her awake. The vixen awoke with a start. The otter was standing over, a frantic look in her eyes.

"What is it?" Thekka asked, sitting up. Kettu put a paw to her lips.

"Shh; come on," She pulled the vixen up from the floor and into the main room. It was dark, but Thekka's eyes were made for seeing in the dark. Shad was by the door, taking down his bow and knife.

"Shad, what's going-" Thekka begain.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the quiet air. Thekka started. More screams followed, along with war-like cries and shouts, growing more numerous by the moment. Thekka could smell smoke now. They were under attack! Suddenly, something burst into the hut, startling them all; it was a tall, evil looking rat with a drawn bow. Kettu screamed, as Shad rammed into the rat, sending both bow and creature to the floor. The otter and rat were caught in a scuffle, clawing, biting, and kicking as they tried best each other.

Kettu suddenly grabbed Thekka's paw and pulled her to the back window

"Thekka, go, now!" she yelled, "Run, get as far away from here as you can!" Thekka stared at the otter

"I can't just leave you like this!" Kettu shook her head

"Do you hear me? Get out of her now! Go!" The otter practically heaved the vixen out of the window herself. "Run!"

Thekka hit the ground with a thump. She jumped up and looked around in the darkness The woods lay before her, dark and still, but safe. With Kettu's shouts still ringing in her ears, the vixen took off, running away from the only place she could call home. She ran for what seemed like forever, never once paying heed to the branched that slapped her face, or the thorns that cut her arms and legs; she had never run this fast in her life. She had no idea where she was even going, juts that she had to keep running until she couldn't anymore.

Suddenly, a branch materialized in front of her. Thekka had a split second of warning before she collided with it head on. The jarring blow knocked her to the ground. Thekka's head was throbbing and she couldn't see straight. Her forehead felt as if it were on fire. The vixen flailed blindly, but she was becoming more lightheaded by the second. Her head lolled to the side as she blacked out.

* * *

**Geez, this is a long chapter! Thanks for reading it anyway =)**

**I had a lot of trouble getting the emotional parts of the chapter to sound right. Did they sound believable? Or could they sound better? The end with the ambush went so much faster for some reason, so I hope it sounded good. **

**Unfortunately, school has started again, so I'll have even less time to write but, I will still try my best to update in a timely manner.**

**Thekka kindly asks you to review =)**


	7. Leaving

Chapter 6

**Sorry for the wait =( Having to make up a cheerleading competition routine doesn't exactly do wonders for one's writing time =/  
Thank-you to all of you who have put up with my ridiculously late updates**

**This chapter was a little hard to write, but I think I got everything down that I wanted to get. I kind of got on a roll with Thekka in the village, so it goes on for a while. **

**Just a little note, I don't consider anything I wrote to be overly graphic, but some people might, so just read with caution. Thanks **

**PS. When I said last chapter that no time had passed, I lied. About four days went by from the time in the Abbey to the vermin camp…just a little change to help the timing, otherwise it would have been a little rushed)**

**PPS. Could you be so kind as to vote in the poll on my profile =)**

**The song that Thekka sings belongs to I believe the Fleet Foxes. I couldn't find an actually mourning song that sounded good so this is what I went with. I think it actually fits quite well.**

_**Also, Be on the lookout for for my Redwall Halloween story!**_

**I don't own Redwall**

* * *

Chapter 6

The air was cool and damp. A film of clouds hid the sun from view and cast early morning shadows over the quiet trees of Mossflower Wood. A mist floated through all, giving the place an ethereal look. There was no sound. No birds, no insects, not even a rustling of leaves. It was as if all life had suddenly disappeared without a trace. Something was not right.

A young wren sitting high in an oak tree happened to look down on the forest floor. What he saw puzzled him. Lying still on the ground was a fox with a rumpled, blue, tunic. The bird cocked its head, chirped a single note, and sat watching the strange creature with curiosity. However, when the fox failed to move or do anything of even remote interest, the wren became bored and took off into the cool air. He had better things to do than watch other creatures sleep.

When the wren took off, the branch he was on shook, sending a small shower of fresh dew onto the ground below. Most off it landed on the fox's head. The sudden cold started her awake.

Thekka Streamgale opened her eyes groggily. For a moment, all she saw was a blur of grey and green. Then, as she blinked, her eyes focused and she saw where she was. The vixen was immediately aware of the aching pain in her head. She groaned and gingerly reached up to touch the spot. Her forehead was damp and crusty, and there was a tender lump. Thekka winced as she felt it. There was dried blood around it, mixed with what seemed to be pieces of dead leaves.

The vixen was confused. She tried to think of how she could have gotten such a wound, not to mention how she had gotten here, lying on the ground among dirt and dead leaves. She turned on her side and saw a low lying branch a few feet above her. As she squinted, could make out a tuft of fur and more dried blood sticking to the limb. She must have run into. Why had she been running? Suddenly, the vixen's eyes widened.

Kettu's shrieked order thundered in her ears as if the otter was right next to her: _Run! Run! _All at once, reality came flooding back. The attack; Kettu shaking her; the screams, the evil rat with the bow; Shad tackling him to the ground; Kettu tossing her through the window. Thekka squeezed her eyes shut as the vivid images flashed through her mind. What had happened? Were any of them still alive? A feeling of dread tugged at the vixen's stomach. What if they weren't?

Thekka thought of the tribe: Bluepaw, Kettu, Shad, Annik, and Daran. Daran… Dread was overcome by hatred as old otter entered her mind. Thekka hoped with all her will that the stupid beast was dead. How had it happened? Had he been burned alive; beheaded; left to bleed out slowly? Thekka's morbid thoughts surprised her. She shook herself and the anxious tug in her stomach returned. She needed to know, she needed to find out what had happened.

The vixen sat up quickly, but was stopped by another wave of pain in her head. She couldn't see straight. Thekka waited for her vision of stop spinning and then tried again, slower this time. Her balance was shaky and she had to grasp the overhanging branch for support. She inspected the spot she had collided with. There was not a lot of blood, which was good. Still, the wound on her head felt much worse. Thekka inspected it again, feeling around more thoroughly. There was the large bump, and then a multitude of small scratches. However, there was no sign of further damage. The vixen saw a patch of fresh moss at the base of the tree next to her. She clawed off a large chunk and then tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her tunic to make an improvised bandage. She bound the moss tightly on the wound; it would do until she had time to properly clean it.

Once she finished, the vixen took her bearings. She would have to go east to get back to the village. If she could find her trail from the night before, it wouldn't take long. After a few moments of searching, Thekka found the trail. It looked as if a jaugerknot had plowed through the forest. Broken branches, bruised grasses and generally trampled underbrush lay before her.

Thekka moved along it as fast as she dared, not wishing to bring on another wave of vertigo; the feeling of anxiousness grew with every step. The sun began to peek through the clouds; sending dappled light through the trees. The vixen soon felt it's warmth on the back of her neck and head; it was calming.

Thekka smelled the village before she saw it. Mixed with the damp of morning was the scent of smoke. As she got closer, the smell grew stronger. Soon, she could see the village. The vixen stopped short; there were muffled voices coming from nearby. The vixen's heart leapt in her chest. Perhaps there were survivors after all! Thekka nearly whooped with excitement, but held herself back as she listened closer. The voices were not those of otters.

Thekka's breath caught in her throat; she swallowed hard. There were vermin in the camp. The vixen crept closer, stopping every few steps to listen. From what she could tell, there were two creatures arguing, one with a low voice, and the other with high, sniveling one. It seemed that the former was reprimanding the latter

"Jus' leave it be, Redsnout! Dere's no sign of 'er"

"But der chief told us ta make sure we looked everywhere." The sniveling voice replied. The first voice groaned

"We did, stupid, all of us did. And what did we find: Nothing!" The sniveling voice made some sort of hushed comment and was rewarded with what sounded like a kick.

By this time, Thekka had skirted the village, staying out of sight in the trees, and keeping an eye out for the two creatures. She came up behind the huge Swamppine stump that housed the entrance to the meeting chamber. The vixen peered around the large tangle of roots. There, in the small clearing, were the owners of the voices. One was a large, dark furred stoat, with a curved knife stuck through his belt. The other was a short, scrawny weasel with a rust colored muzzle and a dirty, green bandana tied over one eye.

Thekka growled menacingly in the back of her throat. These were the beasts that had killed her family. It was all she could do not to charge the two vermin and fight them tooth and claw. She wouldn't have lasted long. Both creatures had knives of some sort, and they would have seen her coming. Thekka looked around for anything that she could possibly use as a weapon. Her eyes fell upon the carcass of a rat a few feet away from her. It lay fallen over that of an otter, and a short spear protruded from its back. Thekka swallowed as she took in the grisly sight. But she was in luck! There, on the rat's back, was a half full quiver of arrows. A bow lay nearby in a small buckthorn bush, and a knife lay next to the otter's paw.

Thekka looked back at the weasel and the stoat and then circled the tree stump to the two corpses. She stuck the knife and one of the arrows through her sash and quietly freed the bow from the buckthorn bush. Then, she picked up another arrow and made her way back around the stump. The two creatures were still arguing, and the tall stoat had his back to her. Thekka fitted the arrow on the bow string. She was not a crack shot with a bow and arrow, but the stoat and the weasel were not that far away. The vixen took her aim around the stump and pulled back the string. _Twang_! The arrow caught the stoat in the middle of his back. The big creature dropped with grunt and lay unmoving.

"Forssa?" Redsnout said fearfully as he stared at the dead creature. He spun around and drew his knife.

"Who goes der?" He said, his voice shaking. "Show yeself!" Thekka notched the second arrow and stepped out from behind the stump. She stood still, arrow trained on the weasel, teeth bared in anger. Redsnout faltered for a moment at the sight of the fox. For a moment, he thought he was looking at Uriun. But, wait, it was a vixen. The weasel mumbled incoherently. He saw the fox's green eyes glint dangerously. They were the same as his chief's.

"Y-you," he said, raising a trembling claw, "you're not s'posed t' be 'ere. You ain't real." Thekka loosed the arrow. Unfortunately, Redsnout leapt to the side, and it only caught his shoulder. With a cry of pain, the weasel dropped the knife and clutched his wound, then turned tail to run off into the woods. Thekka dropped the bow and sprinted after him.

It wasn't much of a chase. With his injury, Redsnout couldn't move his arms in stride. Thekka could see the weasel just ahead of her. She put on a burst of speed and leapt forward, tackling him to the ground. The two scuffled for a moment, and then the vixen had the weasel pinned. He began to blubber like a little kit.

"Oh please, please, I beg ya, don' hurt me- guh!" He gurgled as Thekka pressed the knife to his throat.

"Shut up, ya snivelin' little cur!" She hissed, "Who did this!" The miserable creature trembled and stuttered. Thekka pressed the knife harder. "Speak!" The weasel's eye were wide with terror

"It weren't me idea, honest! Ulvaey, he told us to!" Thekka's brow furrowed.

"Who?"

"The chief, the green-eyed fox, 'e said we 'ad ta take care of 'em! 'is son, Uriun, 'e led us." Thekka stared into space. Her brow furrowed, and let up slightly on the knife. Redsnout swallowed.

"Please," he whimpered pleadingly, "I didn' kill nobeast; honest, I didn't." Thekka's eyes jerked to stare at him. Then, a strange smiled crept across her face.

"Oh, no of course ye didn't." Redsnout died with a strangled gurgle as the knife severed his wind pipe. Thekka got up off of the body and stared at it. Redsnout's sightless eyes looked up at her as blood drained from the slash in his neck. Thekka trembled at the sight. Is this what if felt like to kill another creature? A sudden crush of cold filled the pit of her stomach. She didn't like it. She looked at the knife that was still clutched in her paw. It dripped blood onto the damp ground. Thekka threw the weapon into the bushes. She wiped her paws off on the ground and then turned without another glance and made her way back to the village.

Thekka came out by the Swamppine stump again. The body of Forssa lay on the ground nearby. Thekka retrieved the bow and the quiver of arrows from the dead rat, and also found another knife. The otter had nothing else of usefulness on him. Thekka looked at his glassy eyes. Jinson, his name had been. He was a good fisher, and had two young ones; no doubt they were now dead as well. The vixen reached down and shut the otter's open eyes. Now it looked as though he were merely asleep. It seemed a shame to leave him lying on the ground, but there was no time or way to dig a grave at that moment. Thekka pulled the rat carcass off of him and dragged it a few yards into the dense foliage. There, that was better.

Thekka walked past Forssa's still corpse. The stoat was curled up, eyes shut as if in pain. The vixen barely glanced at the body. Once she reached the huts, she stopped cold.

The village was in ruins. The reed thatched roofs of the huts had been set on fire the night before, and now lay collapsed and smoldering. The smell of smoke and charred wood and reeds make Thekka wrinkle her nose. Piles of the stuff lay all around, giving off more of the unpleasant smell. Thekka rounded one of the huts and let out a choked gasp.

Before her, scattered like cord wood, were the bodies of many otters. Some had been shot through with arrows of spears; others lay in pools of blood, covered in stab wounds. Still others, they were the most gruesome, had been burned, perhaps alive, and charred beyond recognition. The smell that came from them made Thekka feel nauseous. Coupled with the sight of all the murdered, it soon became too much for the vixen. She keeled over and retched. Thankfully, there wasn't much in her stomach, and it was over quickly. The vixen sat coughing and gasping for breath. She scanned the bodies that lay before her. Now that she looked, she saw other creatures among them, a few rats, some stoats and ferrets, one weasel. Not as many as the otters, though. The scene unnerved the vixen; she half expected the bodies to suddenly rise and advance on her.

Suddenly, her eyes stopped on two bodies lying nearby. A cry ripped from her throat; it was Shad and Kettu. Thekka stumbled as she ran to them. She fell weakly to her knees as tears began to form in her eyes. Shad lay on his back, clouded eyes staring up at the sky. A knife lay next to his paw. The otter had a deep slash across his chest. Flies buzzed around the opening. Thekka yelled and swatted them away, covering the wound with a corner of Shad's tunic. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging the still form as she cried. She smoothed the fur on the otter's head and then closed his eyes the same way she had Jinson's.

With more choked sobs, Thekka turned to Kettu. The ottermum lay on her stomach a few feet away, arms sprawled above her head. She had been run through by a sword of some kind. Thekka's vain attempts to hold back tears failed. She turned the female over and cradled Kettu's limp body in her arms. The otter was still faintly warm. The vixen pressed her cheek against the thick fur and sobbed aloud. Cries of anguish ripped from her throat. The kind creature who had taken care of her for entire life was now a limp corpse. Her family was gone; her friends were gone; every creature that she had known, played with, and grown up with, was dead. Thekka suddenly stiffened. Her teeth gritted themselves in anger as a menacing growl came from her throat. She threw back her head and screamed. It was no ordinary scream, but louder, stronger; the sound of despair and anger. Thekka slowly stopped, her breath shaking. She must have shaken the Hellgates themselves.

Thekka did not know how long she sat crying; she stopped only when no more tears would come, and even then, she stayed, tenderly rocking Kettu's body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to do something. Sobbing and crying would not bring her family back; nothing would. She needed to think. Thekka lay Kettu's body gently back on the ground, and then pulled her next to Shad. She needed to bury them. Even if she could not bury the whole clan, she must bury her adoptive parents.

The vixen began a search through the huts for something she could use to bury Kettu and Shad. By a stroke of luck, the first hut she searched through produced a shovel. Thekka took at and began to make her way towards the bank of the side stream the village was built next to. The sandy soil there would be easier to dig in. As she walked, Thekka took stock of the situation. She could not stay here. The bodies would soon draw scavengers, both big and small. She either had to bury them or move them, and the former would take too long. She needed to leave as soon as she could.

Suddenly, Thekka caught sight of another body. At first, she couldn't make out who it was, but as soon as she got close, it became apparent. Bluepaw lay on his stomach. His throat had been cut. From the paw prints farther down the path, he must have been running and then been attacked from behind. Thekka felt new tears form in her reddened yes. She shut them tightly and bowed her head. Somehow, she had already known that Bluepaw would be dead. She would bury him as well. Thekka knelt down and stroked the big otter's cheek. His mouth was opened slightly, as if he had been talking. Thekka felt more sadness wash over her. Those teeth that had smiled at her so many times; that voice which had laughed itself hoarse, and told more stories and jokes than she would ever remember.; it would never be heard again. Thekka smiled as she remembered her friend. What he would he have said if he could see her now?

"Well, stop sobbing over me, already. You know what you need to do; do it, get goin'!"

Thekka sighed. Maybe it wouldn't have been exactly like that, but Bluepaw wouldn't have wanted her to worry. The vixen was about to leave, when she saw something sticking out from under the otter. She reached down and pulled it out. It was a knotted grass cord, softened with beeswax and tightly braided. Tied at the end was a small chunk of wood, carved in the shape of a swimming otter. The carving was very intricate, the work of a master. Bluepaw had received it as a gift three summers ago, and had always cherished it. He never took it off. Thekka slipped the cord around her neck and put it inside her tunic. She would bury it with the otter when the time came.

Thekka soon came to the bank. She looked around and found a shady spot away from the water beneath a wild lilac bush. The flowers were long gone, but when spring came again, they would return, bright and purple. It was here that the vixen dug three graves. They were not very deep, and the soil was soft, so it didn't take long. However, even as she moved the dirt, shovel full after shovel full, Thekka could feel her paws trembling as she kept remembering who the graves were for. Soon, she was done.

The green-eyed vixen returned to the village, first bringing Bluepaw, then Shad, and then Kettu. She buried each in turn, saving Bluepaw for last. She took the braided lanyard and slipped it under the otter's big paw. When all three graves were done, Thekka went about, searching until she found three large rocks. She place one at the head of each grave, and then laid a small bunch of wild primroses on them all. The vixen stood back and looked sadly at the graves. Then, as she felt tears coming once again, she began to sing. Her clear voice echoed in the quiet clearing.

_Wanderers this morning came by  
Where did they go?  
Graceful in the morning light  
To banner fair  
To follow you softly  
In the cold morning air_

_Through the forest_  
_Down to your grave_  
_Where the birds wait_  
_And the tall grasses wave_  
_They do not  
__Know you anymore_

_Dear shadows alive and well  
How can the body die?  
You tell me everything  
Anything true._

_You tell me everything,  
Anything true._

The song was not really one for mourning, but it was the only sad song Thekka knew. The last few words came out in near whispers as the vixen's voice gave out. She bowed her head in silence. A few birds chirped nearby; wind rustled the branches of the lilac bush.

Thekka finally looked up. She breathed out and nodded. As sad as she may have felt, she couldn't mourn forever. She needed to leave, and that would require a lot more work. The vixen picked up the shovel and made her way back down the path.

* * *

Redwall Abbey stood proudly in the expanse of Mossflower. The ancient building had stood or centuries, a safe haven for all those who happened to be passing through the vast forest. The mid-afternoon sun cast its warm rays down on the high walls, giving the red sandstone a rosy hue. In the trees facing the main gate, autumn was already beginning to announce itself through patches of yellow, orange, and red leaves. Somewhere in the close by, a thrush trilled his joyful tune. Life in Mossflower went on relatively uninterrupted, oblivious to the terrible act that had been committed within the forest's northern reaches.

Inside the Abbey, Brother Jerome, the gatekeeper, had just settled down for his mid-morning nap. The old, grey-furred squirrel was among the eldest of the creatures that currently resided in the Abbey, as well as one of the wisest. He knew the ancient building like the back of his wrinkled paw. Being a learned creature, he often taught histories in the abbey school. Unfortunately, the histories were not always the most exciting, and the old squirrel was often subjected to pranks pulled by unhappy dibbuns. This morning, the gatekeeper was feeling particularly tired. He had stayed up rather late the night before poring over an old manuscript. He had finished a cup of hot mint tea, and was now beginning to dose off in his old, overstuffed armchair. Soon, the old squirrel was fast asleep. However, little did he know that he was being observed.

In the bushes outside next to the back door, a masked face was peering in through the window. Mischievous eyes saw the old squirrel's head droop and then watched as he began to snore. The creature ducked down under the sill and pulled the improvised pillowcase mask from his face. It was a squirrel, about ten season's old.

"Alright," he whispered. "The old lump's asleep." The three other dibbuns around him giggled. "SHHH!" The squirrel said, frowning and putting a paw to his lips. "You wanna wake him up?" A brown eyed ottermaid about a year younger shook her head

"Sorry, Gulli," She whispered. She elbowed the younger otter next to her

"Be quiet, Ty," the otter looked at her impudently.

"Don' tell me watta do."

"Okay, okay, everybeast just be quiet." Gulli hissed. He looked at the mouse sitting next to him

"Ya got the key, Bren?" The young creature nodded and smiled triumphantly as he produced the object from his smock. Gulli took it and then put his mask back on.

"Alright, here's the plan: Bukri, you and I will go in and find the spectacles." The ottermaid nodded. "Bren, you and Ty will wait here and keep watch. If you see anybeast coming, give us the signal.

"Oh, you mean dis one?" Bren put both paws in his mouth and took a deep breath. Gulli quickly grabbed his paws before he could whistle.

"Yes, that one, but only if you see anyone coming to the gate house, got it?" Bren nodded. Burki put on her pillowcase mask.

"I'm ready." Gulli slipped the key into the lock and turned it till he heard a click. Then, he slowly opened the door just wide enough for the two of them to slip inside; infiltration was successful. The two creatures found themselves in the back room of the gatehouse cottage, a small kitchen of sorts. They tiptoed silently through the door way and into the main room. Gulli put a paw to his lips and motioned for Burki to follow him as they made their way towards the chair.

As they did, they kept a look out for the spectacles. However, Burki was having trouble with her mask. It was stuffy, and she hadn't made the eye holes big enough, so she couldn't see her feet unless she looked down. She narrowly avoided stepping on the teacup next to the arm chair. Gulli steadied her and they both held their breaths as the old gatekeeper stirred from the noise. With an incoherent mumble, Jerome sunk a little deeper in to the chair and was soon snoring again. The two creatures sighed with relief. However, there was another problem: the squirrel's spectacles were nowhere to be seen. Gulli had imagined that they would be on the table, or perhaps on the arm of the chair.

"Where would he have put them?" He whispered. Burki shrugged

"Maybe in the book room?" She said. Gulli nodded

"Yeah, we'll look there; they've got to be somewhere." The two creatures made their way around the armchair and towards the door to the gatehouse library. Suddenly, Burki tugged on the squirrel's tunic

"Gulli?" The ottermaid pointed to the mantle over the fireplace. There, hidden from eye level, were the sought after glasses. Gulli grinned and patted the otter on the back.

"Good eyes, c'mon," The two young ones doubled back to the mantle. Gulli stood on tip-paw and reached as far as he could. His paw brushed the edge of the mantle.

"I- I can't quite reach them." He turned to Burki, "Here, gimme a leg up." The otter cupped her paws and the squirrel stepped into them. He grabbed the mantle and pulled himself up. He grinned as his paw closed around the spectacles.

"Okay, got'em; let me down,"

Suddenly, several things happened at once. A shrill whistle sounded from outside, startling Burki. The ottermaid screamed and dropped Gulli's footpaw, sending them both tumbling to the floor with a loud thump. Jerome awoke from the noise with a sudden gasp and slowly turned to stare at the two dibbuns lying on the floor. He squinted, and then his eyes widened.

"What in the name of –"

"Run, Burki!" Gulli yelled. He untangled himself and made a mad dash for the back door. Burki lay still for a moment. Her mask had come off in the fall, and she stared at the old gatekeeper for an instant before scrambling after her friend. The ottermaid ran out the back door as fast as she could, only to run slam bang into Gulli the moment she ran out the door. The two dibbuns lay on the ground again. Burki huffed in annoyance as she pulled off her lopsided mask.

"Don't jus' stop in the doorway, Gul- oh…" her voice faltered as she looked up. Looming over her was a huge otter; his brow was furrowed as he looked down at the two dibbuns.

"Well, wot's all this ballyhoo then?" He raised an eyebrow. The otter and the squirrel looked at each other, unable to speak. Suddenly, Jerome appeared in the doorway, coughing and wheezing. His beady eyes were wide with rage. He looked around angrily and shook his paw in the air

"Where are they? Where are those little masked thieves; oh, I'll grind their tails ta flour, I will!" Burki and Gulli gasped and hurried to hide behind Barad. They peeked out at the irate old gatekeeper. Barad looked down at them with confusion

"Thieves?"

"Aye!" Jerome said, slipping on his glasses, which were slightly crooked. "Caught them tryin' ta steal my spectacles, the little hooligans." Burki and Gulli looked up at Barad, trying not to look guilty; they didn't do a very good job, because the abbey warrior nodded slowly.

"Really" The dibbun's faces dropped; they were caught, there was no getting out of it now. Barad sighed

"Well, there's only one thing to do with thieves." The dibbuns' eyes widened apprehensively, expecting some terrible punishment.

"All of you come with me." Burki, Gulli, and the two little ones reluctantly followed behind the aging otter, shoulders drooped and footpaws dragging with guilt as they walked towards Great Hall.

* * *

Rhana Streamgale was sitting in the kitchens, enjoying a late breakfast with Mum Sybil and three of the other kitchen staff. She had become very well acquainted with them over the years she had visited the Abbey, and was always honored as a helper whenever she came. This morning, the little group had finished the dishes and was dining on leftovers from breakfast. As always, they were perfectly delicious. There were warm wheat scones with raspberry and strawberry preserves, oatcakes drizzled with maple syrup, the remains of an egg dish, and warm apples baked with cinnamon and allspice. To drink, there was fresh apple juice, pressed just the night before.

Rhana could never fathom the amount of victuals they had here at the Abbey; there was something new every time she came. It was a tradition for Rhana and her husband Joren to come every year for the autumn feast, as well as to visit Rhana's brother, Barad. This year, the two otters had brought along their little ones, Burkina and Tyla. Rhana hadn't seen her little ones since breakfast, but she didn't fear for them.

The two kits had immediately found friends among the Abbey dibbuns. The little creatures were so friendly and welcoming, that even Tyla, who was rather shy, had taken a quick liking to them. One in particular was Bren, a mouse about the same age as himself. After only a few days, the two had become inseparable. Bren's mother was one of the kitchen workers, a short, plump mousewife named Lily. At present, she was sitting next to the otter, eating a preserve covered oatcake.

"Have you seen your little ones this morning?" She suddenly asked. Rhana looked at the mousewife and shook her head.

"No, not since breakfast," Lily made a little 'hm' in acknowledgement.

"I haven't seen Brenden either." Rhana chuckled.

"I reckon he and Tyla are out in the orchard, causin' mischief ta no end." The mousewife laughed and nodded. Mum Sybil gave a 'humph from across the kitchen where she was dicing apples with Kalen.

"Mischeef in ee orchard? Hurr, bain't no makin' mischeef thur, marm. Ee little 'ooliguns'd be run oot by Brudder James, burr aye." The old mole cook's face crinkled up as she grinned at Rhana. The otter was about to answer, when a group of creatures entered the kitchens. Barad came first, followed by Gulli, Burki, Bren, and Tyla, with Brother Jerome bringing up the rear. Rhana stood up in surprise and stared at the odd group.

"Barad; wot's this about, did somethin' happen?" She looked down at the four young creatures who immediately dropped their eyes to look at the floor.

"I've come on a very urgent matter, marm," Barad said, speaking with mock seriousness. "It appears that there are some very dangerous thieves about." Lily stood up and looked at the otter expectantly

"Thieves! Oh, Mr. Barad, surely you don't mean these little ones here?" Jerome chuckled

"Heeheehee! Oh, regular old rabble-rousers, marm; I caught'em trying to swipe my spectacles," Lily narrowed her eyes at her son.

"Bren? What do you have to say for yourself?" The little mouse looked at his mother in bewilderment.

"It wasn't me, mum, honest. Me'n Ty were lookouts. He put his arm triumphantly around the otter, and then pointed to Gulli and Burki. "They stole the specacles." Gulli shot an angry look at the mouse

"Traitor" he mouthed.

"Gulliver Marcus Willowrue!" A shrill voice suddenly said. One of the kitchen workers, a squirrel wife named Rinna stood up angrily and walked over to her son.

"I won't have you blamin' your action on younger beasts, especially if you recruited them in the first place. Now come with me." Without another word, she took her son's paw and walked swiftly out of the kitchens. Gulli said something in retort, but his mother cut him off.

"I won't hear any excuses. Imagine, a young Redwaller like yourself brought up to be respectful and trustworthy, and I find that you've recruited guests to steal an old mouse's spectacles!" Rinna's shrill voice soon drifted away, leaving the group of creatures standing in a shocked silence. Rhana looked down at her daughter.

"Burkina, would you like to tell me wot 'appened?" The ottermaid shuffled her footpaws.

"Well-" She faltered, "We were sittin' around after breakfast… an' Gulli asked if we wanted ta play a little prank with him." Tears began to fall down Burki's cheeks. "I'm sorry, mum; I just thought it'd be fun." Rhana shook her head and kneeled down to Burki's level. She put her hands on the child's shoulders.

"Burkina, I know it must have sounded fun, but I'm still surprised that you'd do such a thing. We haven't even been here a week and already, you and your brother are getting into trouble." Burki sniffed

"Gulli said that we were just scared if we wouldn't come. I didn't want to be scared." Rhana sighed and shook her head.

"Burkina, there is nothin' wrong with refusing to do somethin' you know is wrong. Just because someone calls you scared doesn't mean ya have to go along with them. An Ty, that goes for you as well Do you understand me?" Burki nodded. Rhana smiled. "Good, now come 'ere, both of you," She pulled Burki and Tyla into a tight hug.

When the hug was done, and Bren's mother had given her own son a short lecture, all three young ones apologized to Brother Jerome. The old squirrel smiled

"The deed is forgiven; but I pray hope that my spectacles will be free from danger from now on." There was a chorus of urgent nods. The squirrel chuckled

"Well, I must be going now; I never did get to finish that morning nap of mine." He winked at the young ones before exiting the kitchens.

Barad crossed his arms and frowned at Rhana

"Is that all, sis; a little reprimanding and a _hug_ of a things? Surely, there must be some greater punishment for thieves as notorious at these three?" He grinned slyly at his niece and nephew and Bren. The dibbuns' eyes widened fearfully

Mum Sybil spoke.

"Hurr. Oi tinks ee yung theevers been repermanded enough. Wot say 'ee Miz Kaler?" The pretty squirrelmaid looked at the three young ones

"I'd say that it's up to their mothers, but I must agree with you, marm."

Rhana looked at Lily, who nodded.

"Well, I don't think any harm was meant on their part; but, I think they should remember very well that what they did was wrong, nonetheless." Bren, Ty, and Burki nodded solemnly. Rhana smiled and nodded at her children. Barad spread his paws in helplessness.

"By the claw, Rhana; since when did you become so soft-hearted?

"Righto, sah!" A voice suddenly exclaimed, "Couldn't have said it better meself, wot." Kaiba had suddenly appeared beside the otter, one elbow resting nonchalantly on the warrior's shoulder. He tsk-tsked, and shook his head at the three dibbuns

"I say, troublemakers be getting off mighty easy these days. Why, when I was in the Long Patrol, I didn't dare put one whisker out of line. A lecture and a beating and no thought of supper, that's what they used to do." Kalen suppressed a laugh. She still could not imagine the fat hare being so young and fleet as to be a Patrol Runner. The hare frowned and pointed an accusing paw at her. "Now, don't you go into giggles on me young miss, tis is a serious matter, the loss of one's supper. Not to mention, my platoon leader could drone on till your fur turned grey. Somewhat of a barmy old fellow he was…" The hare trailed off and proceeded to stare blankly into space; his brow was furrowed in memory. There was a moment of silence in which everybeast in the kitchen stared at him at a loss. Suddenly, Kaiba snapped back to reality.

"Well, enough chit-chattying for now. All that dreadful orchard working can certainly spike a poor chap's appetite; thought I might pop into the old kitchens for a sample of something." He took his elbow off of Barad's shoulder and walked into the high ceilinged room.

"I say, Sybil, old thing; you wouldn't happen to have any of those delightful raspberry scones left, would you?" He rubbed his stomach. "Mm, tip-top delicious if I must say so, wot." He chuckled. The mole cook's velvety brow furrowed. She was surprised to see the garrulous beast back in her kitchen so soon, given what had happened there a few days before. She scoffed

"Scones indeed, zurr; wot ee needs is a gud medicinalin' to cure that bottomluss stumuch of yurrs, burr aye." Kaiba looked rather put out. He sniffed indignantly.

"Now really, marm, denying a starving soul the right to fill his belly with scones is most unduly in my book. You couldn't be that heartless now, could you?" Barad chuckled

"I didn't think I would see ya within a mile of the kitchens after that last li'tle incident. But I guess with hares, it's always stomach over matter." Kaiba stiffened in annoyance but did not look at him. Mum Sybil gestured to the otter warrior.

"You'm best listen to 'ee h'abbey worryur." She said. "If'n ye wont's food, ye'll 'ave to wait till lunchin' toime." Kaiba looked utterly crushed; then, just as quickly, he turned on his heel and proceeded to march importantly from the kitchens, muttering under his breath. Barad gave him a thump on the back as he passed

"No hard feelin's, mate. Sybil's a very spunky old creature; it's hard ta best 'er in an argument." The hare sighed and nodded.

"Yes it's true, old chap. And even a good soldier must sometimes accept defeat. I suppose its back to the old orchard picking, wot." He began to walk away.

"Oh, just a moment," Barad said. He beckoned to the three dibbuns, who were still standing idly.

"Would ye take these three with ya? I don't suppose they could use a few more helpers out there." Immediately, Kaiba brightened up.

"Well of course they do! New recruits are always a commodity; and these look rather capable. Follow me, troops; There's an army of apples afoot." With that, the little parade left the Great Hall, leaving Barad in the kitchens. The otter spread his paws

"Well, I should be goin'. Owen Brushback needed my help with the October Ale, can't lift the barrels by himself; he says that it's one of his best brewings this year." Rhana rolled her eyes

"That boaster; he says that every year. It's all he ever talks about; really, I don't know how 'is poor wife can live with him." Barad chuckled

"Old Matilda's survived this long; I think she's gotten a knack for it." Barad grinned and ruffled the fur on his younger sister's head.

"Get out of here, you old river dog." Rhana said, shoving the tall otter away. Barad laughed and nodded to Lily and the others before trotting in the direction of the cellars. Rhana shook her head.

"I swear; every time I come he acts more like a dibbun." The otter laughed with Lily and Kalen and then began to help them as they continued preparing lunch for the hungry harvesters out on the grounds.

* * *

Thekka wiped her paws on the grass. After an afternoon of pawing through charred thatch, wood, and moving bodies, they were covered in soot, sweat, and blood. The vixen wiped her forehead, being careful not to disturb the permanent dressing she had put on that morning, and sat down on a log for a brief rest. For the entire morning and afternoon, she had done the daunting task of moving the bodies of the slain otters. The sight of them had made her feel sick more than once, but she had tried to ignore it. Thankfully, most of them had fallen inside the huts and did not need to be moved at all.

The vixen had also made a systematic search through the huts for any items that might have been useful. Next to her on a traveling cloak, lay a pile of neatly organized objects that she had managed to salvage. . Thekka was amazed her finds. She had assumed that most of the otter's things would be gone. Apparently vermin pillaging was not that she had thought it to be.

While most of the food, that which had not been burned or buried in rubble, had been taken, there were many other things to be found. The cloak, for one was a life saver. It was tightly woven to make it waterproof, as well as warm. With the colder weather that had come, it would be invaluable. The vixen had also been lucky enough to discover a haversack. Even though it was slightly burnt, it was still sturdy. Other finds included a small pot and a spoon, as well as a water flask, a selection of weapons, and a tunic and belt taken from one of the dead otters.

Besides that, she had also gathered a good amount of berries and other foods, which lay on a small mat covered by a torn tunic. Thekka looked at her pile of loot and then around at the empty village. It was strange to be alone; the air that was once filled with the voices and laughing of otters was now still and void. Only the birds and the rustling of autumn leaves were there to comfort her. Thekka sighed and stood up. She stretched and began to pack the haversack.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning its slow descent towards the west. Thekka wanted to be out of the village by then. She could not bear to spend the night in the village. The thought of sleeping so close to dead things made chills run down her spine. And then there was the possibility of the attackers returning. The disappearance of Forssa and Redsnout would not go unnoticed; somebeast would come looking for them, and the vixen didn't want to be there when they came.

As she had been working through the huts, Thekka had been contemplating where she would go. At first, she had thought about going north and living the rest of her life as a hermit. Even for her, this didn't sound like a very pleasant idea. Then, her train of thought had changed when she remembered Rhana and Joren. Thekka had cheered and cried tears of joy when the two creatures crossed her mind. They had left the village nearly a week before to visit Rhana's brother. Their kits, Burkina and Tyla would be with them as well.

The family made the journey every year, going to a place called Redwall Abbey. Thekka didn't really know what an Abbey was, other than it was a big building filled with woodlanders, and that they had very good food there. Joren always brought back a quantity of drink known as October Ale, which tasted rather wonderful. Whatever it was, it sounded slightly better than spending the rest of one's life alone in a northern forest. The only problem was that she didn't know where the Abbey was, and even if she did find it, she would have to relive the story of the massacre for Rhana and her family.

Thekka pushed the thought out of her mind. She needed to figure out how she would get there first. Rhana's family always traveled down the river to the southwest, but after that, Thekka didn't know much more. Surprisingly, she had never been very far away from the Holt, and even then, never in that direction. If she had a map, that would be something else, but the Streamgale clan had had no mapmakers among them, and if there had been any maps , they were either buried in the rubble or burned.

Thekka tied the berries up in the tunic with the rest of the meager food finds, and tucked it inside the pot with the spoon. She put the small bundle of tinder that she had collected next to the pot and the stuck two of the knives inside as well, along with the rolled up tunic and her sash. Then, she slipped the largest of the knives onto the belt and fastened it around her waist. The only things left were the water flask and the bow and arrow.

Thekka had taken arrows from any slain vermin she could find and filled a quiver with them. She fastened the quiver and bow to the haversack; they would not be needed right away, but the vixen would feel more secure if she had them along. With that, Thekka picked up the haversack and hefted it to her back. As she picked up the cloak and the water flask, realization hit her.

She was leaving for good; once she left, there was no coming back. The thought was strange. She had lived for here her entire life, and now it was over; she was on her own. Thekka gazed at the village, standing quietly among the trees. Would anybeast know what had truly happened here? Would they bow their heads in silence and remember those who had been murdered in their sleep? Thekka did not know. She looked away and made her way towards the river. Half way there, she stopped and decided to take the path through the woods to Bluepaw's fish traps.

She didn't really know why, but she thought it would somehow mean more. In the back of her mind, she was thinking about the attackers. The scrawny weasel, Redsnout, his name had been, had mentioned somebeast named Uriun. Thekka found herself wondering who he was. Redsnout had started when he had first seen her, as if he though she were some other beast. Did she look like this Uriun? And then there was the other beast, Ulvaey. Redsnout had called him 'The Chief' so he must have been their leader. And he apparently had green eyes.

"Just like mine." Thekka thought to herself. She did not know who these creatures were, but it was her dearest wish that she would never find out. Soon, she reached the side stream. The fish traps were still in the water, no doubt full of new catches. Had it only a day ago that she had Bluepaw were, emptying those same traps and telling jokes and stories till they cried from laughing?

Thekka stood quietly for a moment with her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she was ready to leave. She filled the water flask and tucked it into a deep side pocket of the haversack. Then, she made her way across the stream to the opposite bank.

She didn't look back.

* * *

**Well, I hope this chapter was good. Yes, I know the ending may have been a little cheesy, but I wasn't sure how else to write it. I tried really hard to make Thekka's reaction of the massacre believable and still keep to her personality. I didn't mean for her to have this need for revenge, because that's what happens with someone in almost every Redwall book, and didn't want to follow that cliché.**

**I liked writing the scene in the kitchen, especially when Kaiba just appeared out of nowhere. I think that out of all the accents I write, the voices of hares are the most fun to do =)**

**Thanks for reading =D**

**Review?**


	8. Discoveries

**Here is the next chapter! (It is shorter than my last two, but I'm just glad I finished it.)**

**We're back to the baddies again (Unfortunately) I hope they sound evil enough because they are my weakness, I can never get them to sound as mean as I want them too. (It sucks having to write mean characters when you're a nice person) Anyway, if anyone has any suggestions and/or insults they could use from time to time, that would be great. **

**Enjoy =)**

**Btw, this is all happening while Thekka is still in the village**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"Alright, dat's enough; they're good an' dead now,"

Drakclaw the fox captain stood at the edge of a slope, leaning nonchalantly on his spear. Below him looking up at the brown fox, were another fox and stoat. The two looked rather dejected

"But we jus started." The stoat protested. "Why-"

"Der's no point wastin' spears on those two; they've already got more dan they deserve.

The creatures reluctantly scrambled out the depression in the ground. Once there, they surveyed their handiwork. Sprawled unceremoniously before them were the bodies of Tenku and Jibpaw, stuck full of short, sharpened stakes so that they resembled oversized pincushions. The fox, who was called Manka, scratched at the stub of his missing ear and smiled morbidly at the grisly sight.

"Jus' look at'em; like lit'le stuck 'edgehogs." He laughed raucously.

"More loik pin 'olders, I say" the stoat replied "Stoopid liars done deserved it." He spat into the depression. Drakclaw did not join in the mocking. The captain looked down at the corpses with bored eyes. He had seen plenty of executions in his lifetime; this was no different. The fox turned away, quickly losing interest in the bodies.

"Let's get movin'; we done wot ther chief told us ta do."

Manka and the stoat, Lantu, were still standing at the edge of the hollow, laughing at the spear filled bodies.

"Are ye two comin' or not?" Drakclaw yelled at them as he walked away. The creatures came up behind him. The trio still needed to catch up with the rest of the horde.

After making sure that the scouts had been thoroughly scourged, Ulvaey had left the three vermin to dispose of them. The warlord would be somewhere down the river moving steadily to the south. According to him, it wouldn't be long before they reached the great red fortress.

Like many of the horde members, Drakclaw was looking forward to taking the place. If it was half of what Ulvaey had described it as, it would be a dream come true. The fox imagined living in such a place. There would be no more wandering around, no more cold nights without so much as a blanket. Instead, there would be luscious beds and food enough for seasons to come; not to mention they would rule Redwall and make those they didn't kill slaves; if they let any live at all. The normally stern- faced captain suddenly found himself grinning. He quickly stopped before the others saw him.

"So, ow much further is dis Redwall?" Lantu suddenly asked. Manka scoffed

"Only der chief knows; don't tink he'd let us know anyway. E's keepin' it a secret." The stoat furrowed his brow.

"But wot if 'e doesn't even know? Oi never seen 'im lookin' at a map or anythin'. Wot if it's all jus' a trick?" Manka seemed annoyed with his simple minded companion.

"If it were a trick, ant-brain, den why would we be trampin'all this way? Wouldn't make much sense, would it?" The stoat raised an eyebrow and took on a face of thought as he tried to comprehend the fox's words.

"Well… uh."

"See? It caun't be a trick cuz then-upf" Manka was cut off as he ran into the back of Drakclaw.

"Wot th-"

"Quiet!" The fox hissed holding up his paw. "I saw somethin'."  
"Where?" Drakclaw pointed across the river to a tall swatch of rushes.

"Somethin's watching us," Behind him, the hordebeasts' paws went instinctively to their weapons. Drakclaw drew his sword and held his paw up for silence as he went closer to the water. Stood on the edge of the bank and scrutinized the rush patch for a long time while Manka and Lantu waited with bated breath. Finally, the guard relaxed and sheathed his sword.

"Well, wotever it was, it's gone now- gah!" Drakclaw balked as a large pebble suddenly hit him on the side of the head. The fox swore and gingerly touched the base of his ear. A small trickle of blood had started. Drakclaw jerked his head to look across at the rushes. Manka and Lantu still had their knives raised; the three stood frozen. Suddenly, more pebbles came hurtling through the air, pelting the vermin with a rain of small rocks. The creatures yelped in pain as they tried in vain to block the attack.

"It's the sp'rits of dem h'otters," Cried Lantu, "Come back ta 'aunt us- yowch!" a stone connected with the stoat's footpaw causing him jump around in pain. Drakclaw growled angrily.

"Well don' jus stand there, yew idiots, take cover! Get behi-" the fox was silenced as a particularly large rock connected with the back of his skull. He crumpled to the ground a limp heap. Manka and Lantu stared at the fox with horrified eyes, and then took off down the fern riddled bank, running as if the very fires of Hellgates were behind them. They had no desire to meet their attacker.

"Wot about Drakclaw?" Lantu panted as he tried to catch up with Manka.

"Ferget 'im; 'e's a gonner; jus run!" The fox yelled back; he had no care what happened to the captain now, as long as he saved his own hide. The hordebeasts continued to sprint, leaving Drakclaw and the strange pebble thrower far behind.

* * *

Back at the bank, it was quiet. Drakclaw lay amidst the scattered rocks, sprawled unceremoniously where he had fallen. A small trail of blood seeped out of the gash in the back of his head. The captain was still alive, but barely.

He watched Lantu and Manka as they fled, kicking up dust in their retreat. The pain in the back of his head was terrible; his eyes began to water and his vision became fuzzy. The last thing he heard was the splashing of water behind him, and then he was gone.

* * *

The mysterious attacker waited for a few moments, carefully watching his fallen target. The fox on the bank hadn't moved yet, which meant it was either out cold, or dead; hopefully the latter.

After a few more moments, the creature judged that it was safe and stood up. It was a slim, tan-furred squirrel. He wore the simple clothing of a scout, and had a piece of green cloth tied around his left upper-arm. The squirrel stepped over the pebbly bank and pushed aside the tall reed. He waded across the river and approached the fox. The wound in the creature's head was seeping blood. The squirrel put a paw to his neck and felt no pulse; the fox was dead. If he had hit the others, it would have been better, but one less vermin in Mossflower was good anytime.

The squirrel stood up, scowling; this creature had been part of the Zahir horde, he was sure of it. There had been reports that they had come back north, but to have gotten this far already was a shock to him. The two other vermin must have run away towards the camp. The scout turned and began making his way after them. It was not hard in the least; the clumsy vermin had left him a nearly perfect trail to follow. He would catch up with them soon, and find out just how many vermin were here. The squirrel quickened his pace. He wished that there had been another scout accompanying him; his chieftain would want to hear of this as soon as possible. On top of that, this river eventually ran close to Redwall Abbey; hopefully, whatever vermin had come would pass them by.

* * *

Ulvaey Greeneyes wassitting against the wall of a small cave formed by a rocky overhang, his eyes narrowed to slits. The warlord was was uncommonly quiet as he surveryed the camp. Before him, scattered hither-thither, were roughly three score Zahir. The group had stopped and made camp for the evening at a bend in the river. Tomorrow they would continue south and, to Ulvaey's knowledge, to Redwall! The warlord's mouth twisted into an evil smile as he imagined, for the umpteenth time, what awaited him at the fortress.

At that moment, he was waiting for Drakclaw and the two other hordebeasts to return from executing Tenku and Jibpaw.

After meeting up with Uriun, The warlord had been told that there had in fact been no green-eyed vixen. The camp and surrounding woods had been searched, and had turned up nothing. Ulvaey had immediately turned on the ferret and the weasel. He gave orders for the two to be flogged and then executed.

Oddly for the warlord, he had expressed no want to watch the punishment, leaving his captain, Drakclaw, to carry out the order. The rest of the group had then continued, spurred on by mere fear of what might happen to them if they were to anger the warlord. The fear had worked to Ulvaey's advantage, and they had covered a considerable amount of ground for half a day's march; Drakclaw and the others would catch up soon.

The fox gazed over the camp. A few small fires had been built here and there, and the hordebeasts had set about scrounging for food. The air carried a faint chill, barely noticeable through the warlord's cloak, but there nonetheless. Ulvaey exhaled; if he wanted to take the abbey, he could not wait for colder weather. Even with his whole horde of five score, he would not get far in the unfamiliar territory once the snows came. Even a horde could be brought down by hunger and cold.

Ulvaey was brought back to reality as he was approached by Nuvak. The fox was bearing a baked fish on a leaf. He paused for a moment outside the overhang, and then proceeded when Ulvaey waved a claw. The guard set the fish down at the warlord's side.

"Drakclaw still ain't returned, m'lord." He said, sounding slightly apprehensive. Ulvaey nodded absently and poked the fish with a claw.

"He will soon," the fox took out his knife and twisted a chunk of meat off the fish. Nuvak looked in the direction they had come from.

"They weren't dat far be'ind, m'lord. De shoulda been back by now." Ulvaey fixed the captain with a narrow-eyed stare; he swallowed the mouthful of fish.

"I said they would be back," he snapped. Nuvak pulled back slightly under the stare. He saluted with his left paw and hurried. Ulvaey watched the guard go; Nuvak had never been one to argue with him. He would have hated to lose his best captain due to insubordination. The fox shrugged and returned to the fish; the underside was burnt, but he was hungry enough to ignore it.

* * *

Ulvaey was picking his teeth with a fish rib when a skinny fox suddenly appeared outside the opening.

"M'lord," he panted. "Manka and Lantu, they's back; look loik they been chased by the Devil 'imself!" Ulvaey was up in an instant, pushing his way past the young hordebeast, who ran to catch up with him. "They was all blank eyed and mumblin' bout sperits." The fox was saying. Ulvaey barely heard him. Ahead at one of the fires, a small group of creatures had gathered around a fox and a stoat. Ulvaey shoved his way into it.

"Move!" he shouted. The group quickly parted. The warlord entered the circle and approached the two creatures; he looked at them questioningly.

"Where is Drakclaw?" Manka and Lantu slowly glanced at each other and then back at the warlord; neither spoke.

"Answer me, you maggots!" Ulvaey shouted. Manka jumped and began to speak quickly, his voice quavering.

"'e-'e's dead, m'lord."

Ulvaey's looked taken aback.

"Dead; wot d'you mean dead, how?" The fox looked at the warlord, eyes wide with fear.

"We was ambushed! He got hit wid a big rock! " Ulvaey's stare never faltered.

"Ambushed by who? Where?" The warlord was no longer shouting, but seemed uneasy.

"We was by down by ther bank cuz Drakclaw thought 'e 'eard somethin'; next things we knew, we was bein' pelted by rocks! It was like 'ail, m'lord. Drakclaw got hit in da back of 'is 'ead; killed 'im dead right der! Me'n ol' Lantu, we fer it!" The fox stopped, out of breath.

"How many were there?" Ulvaey asked

"Huh?"

"The rock throwers! How many were there?"

"I dunno, we never seen'em, they was 'idin' in der reeds; but der musta been dozens the way dem rocks was peltin'us. It was like rain!" Lantu nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Aye, chief; we'd a been dead beasts if'n we'd stuck 'round there; we 'ad ta run," Ulvaey raised an eyebrow at the hordebeasts.

"Did ye ever stop ta see if they were followin' yew?" the warlord asked. The question seemed to catch Manka off guard; he paused for a second and then quickly nodded.

"We didn't see nobeast, chief or 'ear anythin' comin' after," Manka hoped that the warlord would believe the lie. They had indeed heard rustling behind them, but hadn't dared stop to look. The fox was relieved when Ulvaey nodded approvingly. It was short lived

"Good," the warlord replied, looking strangely at ease. "Then ye won't have any trouble takin' the first watch." Lantu and Manka looked suddenly crestfallen. The smallest possible smile curved up the edges of Ulvaey's mouth, exposing his sharp teeth.

"Ye can sit right there, watchin' the trees; and if anybeast catches you sleepin'," the smile disappeared, "Ye can join yer friend Drakclaw," the warlord turned with the swish of his cloak and made his way back towards the overhang. He waved a claw at Nuvak, who followed.

Lantu and Manka visibly shivered and sat in silence before the fire. The creatures around them had dispersed and gone back to their own fires, but for two, Redak and Viat. The latter creature was leaning on his bow, watching the fox and the stoat with mocking eyes.

"'ope ye ain't tired none," he said, grinning. Lantu frowned at the wiry rat.

"Shut up! Yew ain't da one been chased." His voice didn't come out as confidently as he had hoped. Viat laughed wickedly.

"Will ya listen ta that?" He said, jerking his head at the stoat, "Sounds jes loik a lit'le baby; loik a snivlin' coward." Lantu glared at the rat, but didn't respond; he would have gladly pulled his knife on the creature, but didn't feel like fighting. Viat spat into the fire and walked away, still chuckling to himself.

Lantu muttered something under his breath as the rat left. Redak was sitting quietly, ignoring the incident that had just occurred.

"So, ye were followed." he said. Lantu looked at him, suddenly realizing what he had said. He tried to cover it up,

"Wot d'you mean; yew 'eard us b'fore." Redak glanced up at the stoat, and Lantu knew that they were found out.

"No beast followed us 'ere." Manka said firmly, "We lost 'em." Redak resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Those two would have no sooner lost an adder in his own burrow. With the racket they had been making before they even arrived at the camp, they may as well have alerted every creature within a mile of the group's presence.

"Yew better 'ope for your sake that ye did; you'll 'ave all night ta find out." Redak grinned and then was without another word. Lantu and Manka sat quietly for a while, and then the fox rose.

"Go an' get some wood, a lot of it; I'll see if'n I can scrounge some food up." He said

"Why can't I get the food?" Lantu protested.

"A'cause, yew couldn't find somethin' edible if'n it hoped up on yer nose and started doin' a jig; now git movin', the sun's already goin' down." Manka turned and walked towards the woods, muttering something about brainless creatures. Lantu stayed put for a little while longer. Stayin awake all night; how did Ulvaey expect them to do that? They didn't deserve to go through this. He and poor Manka had been pelted rocks, run until their sides split with pain, and had brought back important information, only to get this as a reward? The stoat shrugged. A typical day in the horde, he guessed. He stood up and took off in search of wood.

In the cave under the overhang, Ulvaey and Nuvak had had a clear view of the two hordebeasts. The warlord's eyes were back to their default, narrowed glare of suspicion.

"Those two, Lantu and Manka," he said, "Make sure they're watched closely. Anybeast catches dem sleeping, or any enemies are spotted, report it to me right away. They can join Tenku and Jibpaw." Nuvak looked slightly confused.

"M'lord?"

"They were lying, lumpbrain; couldn't ye see it in der eyes? They were followed; I don't know how far, but somethin' followed them. They could be watchin' us right now." Nuvak looked at the two creatures.

"I'll double the watch m'lord." He said, rising. Ulvaey nodded

"Yes, but leave those two on their own. With any luck they'll be the first targets." Nuvak saluted and hurried away to inform the first watch of their positions.

Ulvaey wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. He half wished for his tent, but the object was packed away; speed was more important now than comfort. The warlord gazed out at the evening sky.

Even though the sun was behind him, he could still see the pink and purple in the clouds. Their beauty went unnoticed. Soon, the days would be even shorter, the nights even colder. He must reach that Abbey soon or he would risk being caught by the winter, and who knew where that would leave him?

* * *

To the north, the same sunset filled the sky. It shown through the red and gold trees, sending rays of fire colored light down onto the forest floor. Thekka Streamgale walked with the rapidly lowering orb to her back, her footpaws crunching on early fallen leaves. More leaves fell around her, blown by a small evening breeze that also ruffled through the vixen's fur. Thekka shivered slightly, but it wasn't too bad; it would get worse once the sun went down, and she needed to find shelter before then.

The vixen reconsidered her decision to leave so soon. Perhaps she should have spent the night in the village; it would have been a lot warmer in the meeting chamber than outside. No, this was the better choice. I she wanted to leave the Holt, it was best done right away; and anyway, it was too late to turn around.

Thekka suddenly saw a patch of berries up ahead, growing in a small clearing. Hoping for something edible, she ran to them eagerly. What luck! They were elderberries! The vixen began to eat greedily, but slowed herself soon afterward; she didn't need a full stomach right now. Thekka ate one more paw full and then took the tunic that held her food supply out of the haversack. She added a large quantity of the berries and tied the tunic shut again. She would have to start eating more sparingly; she didn't have a definite food supply anymore.

Thekka put the bundle back and hauled the sack onto her shoulders. She continued walking.

After a while, the trees thinned out and she was on the edge of a large clearing. Off to her left the land sloped gradually down to flatlands of scrub grass, small boulders, and trees. Beyond those, a wall of green reared up from the landscape. It was a pine forest, one that probably extended far into the north. Thekka looked to her right and saw the woods continuing. That was the direction she needed to go; she had already gone off route.

At this rate, she would be floundering through knee-deep snow before she got to Redwall. She needed to keep herself better aware of her direction.

Thekka continued into the woods, hoping to find some suitable place to sleep. The sky was dim when she finally came upon a clearing full of large boulders; it would have to do. The vixen set her bow and quiver and the haversack down at the base of one of the enormous rocks.

She decided against building a fire. Though it would have given warmth, she was in unfamiliar territory; she had no idea what might be out in these woods. So far, she hadn't come across anybeast, which was both a relief and a pity, but that didn't mean there weren't any.

Thekka chose a small space at the base of the largest boulder as her sleeping spot. She stuffed the food bundle and her weapons next to her head. She put her sash in the haversack and put her knife where it would be easy to reach should the need arise. Finally, the vixen curled up, using her cloak as a blanket, and the sack as a pillow. It wasn't terribly comfortable, but Thekka was too tired to care. She let out a deep sigh and looked out at the rapidly darkening clearing.

The vixen blinked; this was her first night away from the Holt. It felt strange without her family. She was used to Kettu and Shad sleeping only a few feet away, their rhythmic breathing the only sound. Thekka felt her eyes beginning to water. She rubbed back the tears and closed her eyes. The sounds here could be soothing as well: the wind blowing in the trees, quietly rustling the dry leaves; the faint _swish-swish_ of the grass; the sad evening song of a lone Mourning Dove somewhere nearby.

Slowly, Thekka's eyes closed and she fell asleep. Yes, this was indeed peaceful.

* * *

**I really liked that ending, I made me feel calm myself =)**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter**

**I know you are tired of hearing the apologies for my late updates, but I will say that I am sorry again. My schedule and writing do not go very well together. I appreciate everyone who's still reading, even though it's been almost a year since I started this thing and my updates are monthly comings. Hopefully that will change; I'll make it a New Year's resolution.**

**Btw, my poll is now tied for how I should decide Uriun's fate; I need a tie breaker at some point.**


	9. Over the Edge

**Well, this is up **_**way **_**later than I want it to be = (**

**But, I'm also happy to say that I am getting more comfortable writing the 'bad guys' in this story **

**Anyway, I'd like to thank Archduke Langus for heckling me into actually starting this chapter. (That seriously is pretty much what happened, so thanks a bunch!) **

**Also, I made a little change to the last chapter concerning the squirrel, so if this beginning part doesn't make sense, go back and read that part in the last chapter.**

**So, without further waiting, here is Chapter 8**

**I don't own **_**Redwall**_

Chapter 8

The early dawn arose to find the Zahir camp in a state of paranoia. Nervous hordebeasts milled around, murmuring about the incident that had just occurred. Moments earlier, Janczak, the fox on dogwatch had gone to investigate what he believed to be a sleeping Lantu and Manka. The fox thought he might be rewarded for ratting out the lazy beasts. Instead, he had found the two creatures dead, sprawled by the remains of their fire. An alarm had immediately been raised, bringing with it a sudden flood of disorder. Nuvak was attempting to maintain order again.

"That's enough!" he yelled angrily at the milling creatures. "Ye call yerselves Zahir? Look at ya! A bumbling brood a superstit'ous ol' mouse wives, dats wot ye are!" The horde grew silent, with the exception of a few who whispered disrespectful comments about the captain. Nuvak pretended not to hear them and looked over the group with stony eyes. He then glanced over his shoulder. "Look alive now, yer chief's comin'."

Ulvaey Greeneyes suddenly appeared with Uriun. The warlord's eyes were glazed from sleep, and one could tell that he had been rudely awakened by the steady glare in them. The wary hordebeasts gave him plenty of room to pass by. Ulvaey approached Nuvak.

"Wot's goin' on here?" he demanded, irritable but still serious. The captain saluted smartly.

"M'lord, Manka and Lantu were found dead this morning," he gestured to the two bodies lying next to the cold fire ring. Oddly, Ulvaey didn't seem surprised. In fact, he looked rather amused as he sauntered over to the dead hordebeasts. Fox and stoat were fallen against each other, wide eyes pale and misted with death. Ulvaey gazed at them passively, inwardly chuckling at the miserable lugs; sleepy watchers never brought good to anybeast.

"Who found'em?" He asked, as he crouched to inspect the corpses. There was a moment of silence before Janczak spoke up.

"I did, m'lord," he said, raising his paw slightly. "I was on der dogwatch and looked over an' t'ought dey was sleepin', disobeyin' yer orders, see? So I walked over ta kick'em awake an' they was just lyin' there, dead as doornails."

Ulvaey was barely listening to the fox; instead, he was studying how the hordebeasts had been killed. Both were injuries to the throat. Lantu's had been slit, but Manka had been strangled. A thin loop of tightly braided grass cord was still wrapped around the fox's neck. Ulvaey's brow furrowed as he unloosed the cord and held it in his paws; he turned it over slowly. The strange weapon unearthed a forgotten memory in the back of his mind; he had seen this before, but where? The warlord's brow remained furrowed as he rose. He turned to the group.

"Prepare ta break camp; we're movin' on." There was a brief pause as the creatures stared at the warlord and the strange cord clutched in his paw. The fox frowned. "Well? Get movin' ya slugs!" The group saluted hurriedly and dispersed before beginning to erase traces of their being there. They buried the remains of fires and erasedpaw prints from the dusty ground with branches. Ulvaey stopped a pair of ferrets as they passed

"You two, toss those into the woods, cover' em with leaves." He gestured to the bodies of Lantu and Manka. The ferrets did as ordered.

"An' make sure ye do a good job of it," the warlord said, "I don't want no beast finding them an' followin' us." One of the ferrets groaned under his breath, but his companion elbowed him silently and they began to drag the limp corpses across the camp to the tree line. Ulvaey watched them momentarily before turning to Nuvak, who had stayed at his side in case of further orders. Only after the hordebeasts were gone, did the captain question the grass cord in Ulvaey's paw.

"M'lord?" he asked, indicating the object, "Wot is that?" Ulvaey turned the weapon over in his paws.

"A strangling cord," he said, "made specially fer a quick killin'." Nuvak looked slightly disturbed.

"Wot sorta creature would use it?" he asked. The warlord grinned slightly.

"One dat wants ta be fast an' never found." He nodded at the cord, still unable to place where he had seen it before. If there had been tracks around the log, he may have been able to learn what kind of creature the mysterious attacker had been, but there was an unusual lack of signs to point to any creature. The attacker may as well have come for the sky for all he knew. The warlord had a sudden though. "Uriun," he said, turning to his son, "Bring me Ujjain." The young fox saluted and hurried off to find the elusive swamp rat. Ulvaey nodded at the place where the dead vermin had lain. If any creature could find tracks, it would be Ujjain. Moments later, Uriun reappeared, followed closely by the slim, black, hordebeast. Nuvak stood back a little as she approached Ulvaey; the swamp rat had always put him a little on edge; it may have been her voice, or her large moon-like eyes, or merely the presence she cast, but the captain had never felt completely at ease when she was around. Ujjain gave a little bow and spoke in a thin, reedy voice, her pale eyes fixed on the fox.

"His lordship asked for me?" Ulvaey nodded

"Manka and Lantu were killed las' night; I need to know the beast that did it," he gestured to the log. Ujjain moved forward without a word and began her search. Ulvaey watched in wonder as the rat moved painstakingly over the ground. She investigated the dirt around the log, and the log itself, and plucked something from in between the bark. Then, she seemed to find something on the ground and moved slowly towards the trees and stopped beneath a low maple. Ulvaey followed.

"Well?" he asked. Ujjain spoke flatly.

"It was a squirrel," she said, "He sat in this tree," she pointed to a tree fork that was surrounded by leaves, a few of which were bruised and torn. The rat waved a paw back at the fire ring. "He killed dem from behind." Ulvaey nodded and then waved a paw to dismiss her. The creature slunk off without a backward glance.

The warlord's eyes glittered as an evil smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He had remembered where he had seen the weapon before. It had been years ago, when he hadn't been much younger that Uriun. The horde had been attacked by a band of squirrels while traveling through a northern forest; those squirrels had used the same sort of weapon. Ulvaey's father, Varun had been killed by their leader. The warlord felt a sudden pang of hatred in the back of his mind. He loathed squirrels; the mere thought of them made his fur rise in anger. The warlord suddenly found himself feeling nervous. If this mysterious assassin had indeed been from the same tribe, then he had good reason to worry. If they followed the horde, there would be no escaping them. Ulvaey would not have the whole of the Zahir behind him this time; half of them were at least a fortnight behind, following the main group. The warlord threw the strangling cord aside and motioned for Nuvak to come close. The brown fox listened intently.

"Wot is it, m'lord?" Ulvaey spoke seriously.

"Make sure everybeast is on their guard while we're travelin'," he said, "An' double the watch." Nuvak looked unsure, but nodded. Ulvaey continued

"The beast dat left the cord, I know his tribe; if'n they have any sense, der gonna make sure ta keep an eye on us. If anything suspicious 'appens, I want ta know it, is dat clear?" The captain nodded again. "Right, now gather the horde," Nuvak saluted and hurried to rally the threescore hordebeasts.

Ulvaey turned and looked up at the gnarled maple, fixing his green eyes on where the squirrel had sat. The creature was no doubt on the way to warn his tribe; brave creature. He was lucky he hadn't been caught. The warlord would have gladly hung him by his tail and suffocated him over a fire as he had done to the other squirrels years ago. The warlord gave a morbid chuckle at the thought. Still, the fact that the scout knew of his presence here bothered him. If word of them somehow got to Redwall, he would lose the element of surprise. Though he did not want to have to take the entire Abbey to get the sword, he feared that he would have to anyway. He could only hope that news of the Zahir being here would travel slowly.

Ulvaey returned to the small cave and found his seer, Uka waiting for him. The ancient vixen leaned on her twisted pine staff, watching the warlord with dark eyes that still glittered despite their owner's age. Ulvaey glanced at her.

"Well?" he said. Uka rarely spoke or even approached him unless she had something of great importance to say. The vixen blinked and looked at him.

"M'lord," she said in a cracked voice, "This incident troubles me." At first, Ulvaey did not seem to share his seer's concern. He gave a nondescript shake of his head and began to buckle his sword belt about his waist. Uka spoke again.

"The creatures here are different than those you have known; they send word to protect one another in danger, they do not cower. If word of our presence reaches the Great Abbey, you will not stand a chance of getting in." the seer stopped as she saw a glint of anger in the warlord's eyes. She had spoken well out of turn. Ulvaey's face remained stone and he was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he spoke.

"I have already considered the matter, vixen. That is why we must move quickly; reach them before they know of us. I _will_ have that sword, Uka; mark me on that." The warlord's eyes held no room for question. The seer lowered her head. Ulvaey began to fasten his cloak.

"Have you seen anything?" he asked. Uka looked up for a moment, and then shook her head.

"No, m'lord, nothing," Ulvaey gave a slow nod as he stepped out of the cave. As soon as he did, he was approached by Cuvan, one of his captains. The fox's yellow eyes stared militarily out from under a battered helmet.

"Horde's ready, chief." He said, saluting with his right paw. "Awaitin' yer orders, sir." Ulvaey nodded.

"Good, very good." The warlord began walking, Cuvan close behind.

"Make sure everybeast is on their guard," Ulvaey said. The captain nodded

"Yes, m'lord."

Ulvaey's eyes were like cold emeralds. He would not allow his past to hamper him; that sword would be his, no matter how many creatures he would need to kill to get it!

* * *

To the north, the dawn was grey, full of eerie silence. Mist crawled down from the mountains, blanketing Mossflower with its heavy stillness. A lost mourning dove seemed to be the only creature alive. Perched in the shadows of an ancient pine, the bird's saddened tune sounded over the trees, calling out to the fellows who had left it behind. Though the he did not know it, the bird's song was also heard by another creature.

Thekka was huddled under her boulder, wrapped tightly in the traveling cloak. Only the top of her head showed and it was covered with early morning dew. In the last moments of sleep, the vixen contemplated the bird call as well as the mossy smell that filled her nostrils as she breathed. It was strange for Kettu to be so late in waking her. Had the ottermum just forgotten? There should have been the crackling sound of a fire by now, the smell of rice porridge-.

Thekka's eyes opened. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was. A patch of dew covered grass slowly came into focus, and a flood of memory rushed back to the vixen. She was not at home. Kettu was dead. There was no fire; there would be no rice porridge with honey. She was alone, huddled under a rock with her haversack for a pillow and a mourning dove for company. Thekka blinked, staring absently at the grass before her. As if sensing her grief, the bird called again, filling her ears with its sad, joyless call. Thekka suddenly had the urge to throw a rock at the bird, wherever it was. She didn't want to be reminded of the massacre; not now.

The vixen propped herself up on one elbow and yawned. Before her, the boulder strewn clearing was quiet and still. The sky was grey, and mist hid the tops of the trees. Dew covered everything; the grass; the traveling cloak; even her fur. Thekka pushed back the cloak, shaking the moisture from her face. She crawled out from under the boulder and shook out the dewy cloak before wrapping it around herself. Her stomach suddenly started growling in anticipation of food.

Thekka hit her belly with her paw.

"Oh, be quiet," she said, as she pulled the food filled tunic out from under her quiver. Soon, she was munching on a pawful of elderberries. If her bearings were correct, Wrensong Creek would be a ways off to her right. She had purposefully given it a wide berth to avoid running into the green-eyed fox and his horde.

The vixen gritted her teeth at the thought of the creature. She had never seen him before, but she already hated him. Only a creature with no heart could have ordered the murder of so many innocent creatures. How many other tribes and families had he had killed? How many had lost their homes because of him?

The vixen frowned. She needed to stop thinking about this. She crouched and took a few pieces of dried fish from the supply stash, then stowed the tunic back in the haversack and took a drink from the water flask. She needed to get moving. She gathered her weapons, hefted the pack to her shoulder and made her way into the woods, eating the fish as she did; she would reach the creek today, she was sure of it.

The mid-afternoon sun shone down on Thekka as she walked. The vixen was making her way through a particularly hilly part of the forest. The ground rolled and dipped like an ocean frozen mid-wave. Tall, autumn- leafed trees grew steadily with the changing terrain, surrounding the vixen. At first, she had had the feeling that she was falling forward, but then she tried shuffling down the hills sideways, using trees and bushes to steady her. Still, the ground was covered with decaying leaves, making the slope she was presently on a slippery minefield.

Suddenly, Thekka stumbled on a hidden tree root. The vixen cried out as the leaves and dirt beneath her gave way and she slid down the hill. There was a sudden pain in her leg as she rolled over some rocks hidden in the leaves. She slid almost to the bottom, and finally came to a stop when she grabbed onto a shrub. Thekka lay still for a moment, claws gripping the thin trunk, breath coming out in quick gasps. When she was certain that the ground would not give way again, the vixen pulled herself up. She felt pain shoot through her leg and saw the damage the rocks had done: her right knee and calf had been scraped up and were starting to bleed.

Thekka winced as she touched the injury. She took out the water flask and the spare tunic and gently cleaned away the blood. Thankfully, the scratches weren't deep. Thekka put the tunic back in the haversack; unfortunately, the flask was nearly empty and she hadn't heard or seen any sign of water since starting out. She needed to find some soon. The vixen re-shouldered the pack and walked across the shallow ravine. Two shorter hills and painful climbing's later, she was on level ground again. By a stroke of luck, she also heard the trickling sound of water. Thekka breathed a sigh of relief. A running stream had never sounded so good.

The vixen trekked on until she finally came to the source of the noise: a shallow, rock-strewn creek, bordered by thick bushes. Thekka took of her bow, quiver, and haversack and knelt down next to the inviting water. She tasted it to make sure it was good to drink, and then filled the flask, taking a long drink before refilling it a second time. She washed her face and then re-cleaned the wound on her leg. The sun appeared through the tree tops warming the back of Thekka's neck. The vixen reached in to the haversack and pulled out half a loaf of rice bread. She had enough food for now, but she would need more soon; perhaps she could find some berries along the stream.

Thekka leaned against a moss covered stump, her foot paws resting in the cool water. She glanced downstream. The trees thinned out farther down and the stream curved off around a bend. With any luck, it would connect to Wrensong Creek and she would be back on track. The vixen's thoughts soon turned to Redwall. What would it be like when she finally got there? Would she be welcome, or would the creatures there refuse to have anything to do with her, like those in her own tribe? She also considered Rhana and Joren and their family; how would she tell them of the massacre? Thekka almost felt sorrier for the young ones. Burki and Tyla were only kits, too young to understand why they would never see their friends and relatives again. The vixen shook her head sadly; it would not be easy news to break.

Thekka finally decided that it was best keep moving. She re-shouldered the haversack and her weapons and began to walk along the stream's narrow, rocky bank. After a few minutes the bank she was on turned to thorn bushes, so she forded the shallow water and walked on the opposite side.

Nearly an hour later, Thekka heard the sound of a louder river, and saw patches of reeds and cattails in the distance. She'd finally made it! The vixen hurried on, nearly bursting with joy. She had nearly reached the edge of the woods, when she stopped cold. Another sound had suddenly reached her ears: voices. The vixen was surprised; not so much by the voices, but by the fact that these were the first she had heard since the massacre, nearly three days ago. She thought she would have met up with another creature long before this. Thekka felt hope growing her chest, but stayed where she was. She had never been to this part of Mossflower before; who knew what the beasts here were like?

Thekka's ears flicked forward curiously, trying to catch more of the sound. The voices had stopped, but they seemed to have come from a nearby clearing, close to the rush strewn bank. The vixen cautiously began to make her way forward, skirting around bushes and avoiding fallen sticks. Luckily, the voices started again. As Thekka listened, she thought that they might belong to shrews. She had heard of tribes inhabiting the land to the south and west of the Holt.

The land suddenly sloped up on her left; it would be best to observe from above. If they were in fact shrews, the vixen wasn't sure if they would take to her kindly or not; she'd heard that shrews could be very temperamental.

Thekka carefully started to climb up the slope, trying to make as little noise as possible. Thankfully, the wind blowing through the dry leaves helped to hide her approach. As soon as she reached the top of the table land she saw that it ended in a small, cliff like drop off in the direction of the river. A low ridge of moss covered rocks was heaped up along the drop, making a perfect place to hide. Thekka took off her quiver and haversack and crawled on paws and knees towards the heap. The voices were right below her now. There were two of them: one slow and deep, and the other more commanding. The former seemed to be yelling the latter; Thekka flinched at his language. She finally peered over the rocks and looked down on the scene below.

Instead of shrews, there were three foxes, all in different sizes and colors, but all rough and ragged looking, as though they had traveled some distance. The one who was yelling was a slimly built creature, red furred like herself. He wore a brown tunic and a dark cloak and had deep scars across the top of his muzzle. He also seemed to be wearing some sort of armor on his calves

"I thought Cato told ye ta stop scroungin' in the dirt," he was saying angrily. "Ye ain't a worm eater are ye, Rint?"

Rint was a huskily built fox with mixed fur of brown and tan. He ignored his companion's scorn and continued to dig. From the way he spoke, he wasn't very bright.

"I'm 'ungry," he replied, and then muttered something under his breath that the first fox couldn't hear.

Thekka's interest turned to the last fox who was sitting cross-legged on a large tree stump. He was smaller than the others, with a thinner build and dark, narrow eyes. His fur was grey and had a rusty tint to it. The fox seemed to be enjoying watching his companions argue because he sat quietly without intervening. A bow and a quiver of arrows were lying next to him.

Thekka wasn't sure if the foxes were friends of foes to her. She was deciding whether it would be safer to skirt the group or to make herself known, when a branch snapped behind her. The vixen stiffened as something sharp was pressed against her neck. A deep spoke.

"Well, now wot d'we 'ave 'ere?"

Thekka didn't move or speak until the stick was moved, forcing her to turn her head and look at her attacker. Standing over her was another fox. He was tall and dark furred with piercing yellow eyes that bored into Thekka's own green orbs. The vixen's eyes widened slightly. She slowly rose. the fox seemed amused and kept the stick on her neck until she was standing. Thekka gave him an intense stare that only seemed to amuse him more, because he laughed and tossed the stick aside. He has holding her haversack in one muscled paw. Thekka glanced at it, but it was too far away to grab. The fox was now staring her in a way that was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.

"An' wot's a pretty li'tle thing loik you doin out here all alone?" He asked. "Are ye lost?"

Thekka considered for a moment. She did need directions to Redwall; perhaps these foxes could help her. Perhaps they were friendly after all. The vixen felt confident for a moment, but then she looked at the fox again. No, he was not friendly; his eyes were anything but friendly. They were cold and cunning like a snake's. She needed to get away- now.

Down below, the red furred fox had caught sight of what was happening on the ridge.

"Cato?" He called. "Wot's goin' on?"

The fox, 'Cato' glanced down at the other. Thekka took the opportunity and lunged for the haversack. Unfortunately, the dark fox saw her and yanked it out of reach, grabbing a hold of her arm at the same time and pulling her closer. He shook his head.

"No, no, no, I didn't say ye could have that." Thekka's green eyes blazed. Cato only smirked, holding her still when she tried to pull her arm from his grip.

"Oi, Iru, Krev! Look wot I found spying on ye," he laughed and shoved Thekka forward. "Beauty, ain't she?"

The red fox, Iru, laughed and walked over to the hill, followed closely by the shorter fox who had been sitting. Thekka knew that she would be in deep trouble if they reached her. She made a split second decision and turned on Cato. She yanked herself away and tried to kick him. She missed the first time, but tried again and finally caught him in the stomach. It didn't give as much as she thought it would, but it was enough to make Cato drop the haversack and stumble back. Thekka wrenched her arm free, snatched the pack, and took off into the woods, leaving the fox cursing behind her.

Thekka had never run so fast in her life. She had forgotten her bow and arrows, and she was running in the opposite direction of where she wanted to go, but it didn't matter; she needed to get away from those foxes. She ran faster, leaping over rotten logs and sprinting through thickets, trying to put more distance between her and the foxes. She thought she had lost them, until she heard crashing behind her. A glance back proved her fear. Cato was coming after her, and he was gaining. The rest of the group was close behind.

Thekka flew over the leaves, legs pumping, her heart pounding with adrenaline. The haversack was bouncing awkwardly against her back, but she ignored it; nothing mattered now but losing her attackers. Thekka heard somebeast yelling behind her. Suddenly something whistled in her ear and an arrow thudded into the ground behind her. Krev was shooting at her as he ran, firing another arrow quickly after the first; it hit closer than before. Thekka could feel her lungs protesting now; her side ached, and her legs were growing tired. She heard the sound of Cato and the others closing in. They would catch up soon, and then… Thekka didn't want to think of what would happen then. She pressed on.

The trees seemed to thin out up ahead, which was bad because it would make her a perfect target. As if to prove the point, one of Krev's arrows suddenly grazed her leg. Thekka cried out and nearly stumbled. She heard Cato taunting her.

"Give up, vixen!" He shouted. His voice was so close that Thekka didn't dare look back.

Her attention was drawn to the landscape ahead, which suddenly seemed to get farther away, as if…. Thekka's eyes widened, but it was too late to stop. She stubbed her paw on a root and flew head over tail into open air! She caught a glimpse of a steep ravine whose floor was filled with red sumac trees, and then crashed down hard onto rocky ground.

Completely winded and in shock, Thekka tumbled down the slope, rolling over and over until her eyes were blurred and she couldn't tell which way was up. She could feel the pain from the arrow graze in her leg, and more in her ankle, though she could not think why. She kept going for what seemed like forever, colliding painfully with the rocky hill surface and the haversack. Then, the vixen entered the sumac. She slammed headfirst into a narrow trunk and lay unmoving among the red leaves.

* * *

Up on the ravine ridge, Cato watched Thekka disappear into the sumac. Krev stood next to him, bow at his side, Iru and Rint behind him.

"Should we go down?" The grey fox asked, glancing up at his fellow mercenary. Cato scanned the gorge. It was steep and rocky and would be hard to re-climb if gone down. The fox shook his head.

"No, it ain't worth it. A fall like that? she's prolly dead anyway," he turned away dismissively and began to walk back into the woods. Iru and Rint glanced at the ravine and then followed. Krev stayed behind, staring down into the expanse, his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. The fox cocked his head like a curious bird and notched an arrow into his bow. He carefully aimed at the sumac and let the arrow fly. It shot down the slope like a hawk in mid dive and disappeared into the red leaves with a dull thud. Krev stood still, and stared a moment more before turning and running off into the trees.

* * *

**Well, there's one way to finish a chapter, **

**Anyway, more baddies have been introduced!  
**_**Random note:**_** The part when Ulvaey talks about hanging the squirrel by his tail is the 'slow death' I mentioned in the first part of the prologue. (Credit goes to the Romans, who had a lot of morbid ways of killing people to choose from)**

**On a lighter note, the next chapter will include the autumn feast (Exciting, right) I was going to put an abbey part in this chapter, but I decided it would sound better in the next one. **

**Other than that, review ^_^**


	10. Nowhere Else but Redwall

**If anyone wants to yell at me tell me that I can't make up my mind about this story feel free; I am still kicking myself for it.**

**I lasted about 3 weeks after putting it on hiatus and have have now just decided to edit the current chapters and keep the story going where ever it may go. I actually suggest starting from the beginning and rereading the story.**

**Disclaimer (and for other chapters if i have forgotten it): I don't own Redwall. If I did, Cluny would have had an Portugese accent in the tv series.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The day of the Autumn Feast had finally arrived. Creatures bustled about like bees in a hive, carrying out last minute duties with a new sense of hurry and eagerness. The Autumn Feast was a very important celebration among Redwallers. It celebrated the coming together of creatures and the sharing of the earth's rich bounties, both very important aspects of abbey life.

As with all momentous occasions, many tasks still needed completing. Fresh fruit and vegetables were needed in the kitchens where the cooks had been hard at work since before sunrise to prepare the fare for the feast. There was also a demand for strong paws to transport tables and containers of drink outside to the feast site.

On the lawn, Foremole Buri and her kin were assisting Owen Brushback with the moving of several large barrels. Unfortunately, most of the moles were too short to see over the barrels and reliedon the cellarkeeper's direction to avoid a collision. However, for all the hedgehog's watching, there were others who were not so attentive. The otter twins Sarum and Safra, along with two others, were bearing a large table from the Great Hall just as one of the gargantuan barrels was rolling by. Owen noticed them in the nick of time.

"Oi, watch it!" he yelled. The moles, thinking that the cellar hog was addressing them, gave low-voice cries as they attempted to stop the barrel. The otters halted as well, but Sarum's paw ended up pinned between the barrel and the table edge. The otter yelped and dropped his corner.

"Gah! Me paw! Ye crushed me bloody paw!" He hopped about gripping the appendage, much to the amusement of his fellow table carriers.

"Oi, save yer dancin fer t'night, mate," Safra chuckled, "Ye'll have plenty of time ta impress a pretty maid."

Sarum shot his twin a heated glare. Owen suddenly appeared to assessed the damage.

"Oh, stop hoppin' about like a hot potato and let me look," he grabbed the otter's paw, which caused another yelp, and turned it over carefully, bending each claw in turn. Sarum grimaced and tried to pull away. Owen let the paw drop. "Well, it don't seem to be broken, you'll be fine." A velvety mole head appeared from behind the barrel.

"We be's soory 'bout crushin' thoi paw, Marster Sarerm," he said apologetically, "Us moles can't see round 'ee barrel."

The otter waved his now-seemingly-fine paw.

"Nah, it ain't that bad anymore,"  
"Says he who danced 'round like crazy dibbun," Safra muttered. The previous laughter was renewed, much to Sarum's chagrin. Owen shook a hefty paw at the young otters.

"Now, I'll 'ave no more jokin' from any 'a ye, ya hear? There's still work ta be done; now get yer rudders movin' an' watch where yer goin!" The otter quartet hurried to obey the stern cellar hog. Foremole Buri came around the barrel and watched the otters carry the table away. Owen shook his head

"What'r we gonna do with all these young'uns?"

Buri's velvety face crinkled into a smile. "Doan't be gettun to 'arsh with ee otters."

Owen nodded, but his face remained skeptical.

"I know; I jus' don't wanna see some poor creature gettin'stuck in the infirmiry an missin' the feast.

"They'um's watchin' naow well enuf, " replied Buri, gesturing to the otters. Sarum and Safra were taking extra care to make sure they didn't trample any creatures underpaw. Owen grinned and patted the mole on the shoulder  
"If only we all had yer confid'nce, Buri; there'd be far less nerves ta deal with,"

The mole tugged on her snout politely

"Us moles ne'er 'ad much nervy probl'ms, zurr," Buri laughed warmly and thumped the hedgehog on the back. "Com on den, ee barrels won't be movin' thoiselves, naow, wull they?"

Owen chuckled

"Roight, lets go now, move lively. Ho, an' be careful with that barrel of October Ale; tis the best of the season that is."

While drink was well taken care of, food was another question all together. The entrances to the kitchens and storerooms were filled with Redwallers of all sizes as they brought in items for the cooks and produce for the cellars. In the middle of the hubbub stood Brother James, a younger member of the Redwall Order and current director of everything going into the Abbey. While the young brother was a born leader, he still had his work cut out for him. James had been directing creatures since early that morning and the strain was beginning to show as he attempted to keep order.

"No, Brother Kolm, Brother Samuel, those apples need to go to the cellars, the kitchen store rooms are already filled up."

"You two, be very careful how you handle those seeds, you don't want to spill them."

"I say, Friar Doren mind that basket of onions, they're quite strong this year; don't want you to start sneezing, now, do we?"

The fat squirrel nodded quickly as he passed to enter the kitchen door and held the basket of onions a little further from his nose. James turned back and noticed Myna the little molemaid toting a bucket full of currents. Though determined, the dibbun was having trouble as the bucket was a bit too full. James raised a paw.

"Myna, careful with- oh dear."

The molemaid suddenly tripped and sent the currents tumbling over the ground. Myna sat up and stared at the sea of berries; she looked as though she would cry. Brother James started over to help her, but a grey furred mouse in a blue dress reached the dibbun first. Sister Aeva had come to the rescue.

"I've got it, Brother," she said, raising a paw, "Goodness, Myna, what happened here?"

Myna wiped a paw over her teary eyes. The sister put a comforting paw on her shoulder, "Now, now, no use crying over spilled currents; here, I'll help you," .

"Oi be's gurt soory, Sis Aeva," Myna said as the gathered up the currents "thee'um burries bees 'eavy, miz,"

Sister Aeva smiled.

"Perhaps you shouldn't take so many the next time?"

Myna nodded earnestly. The old mousewife looked around and suddenly spotted a dibbun squirrelmaid.

"Lucia?" She waved a paw, "Lucia, could you come here please?" The dibbun rushed over when she saw Myna.

"Wha 'appen'd?" she asked.

"I'um tripped on 'ee currunts," the molemaid replied.

"Would you help Myna get these into the kitchens?" Sister Aeva asked. Lucia nodded vigorously and pulled Myna toward the kitchen.

"Come on, let's go ta Mum Sybil," the two dibbuns began to tote the bucket carefully to the door.

"Make sure you don't eat any on the way," Aeva called after them. Myna shook her head.

"H'oh no, sisa, oi wants be keepen moi tail."

Lucia nodded in staunch agreement, patting her own tailbrush.

Aeva shook her head at the sight of the two friends. Apparently the old molecook's threat was still alive and well among the dibbuns. The grey-furred sister looked up and spied a rather tired looking Brother James in front of the kitchen doors.

"Goodness, you look like you could use some help here."

James sighed and waved a trio of mousewives bearing pears towards the cellars.

"A minute's rest would be most welcome," he replied. "Up since dawn watching like a hawk; it frays even the best nerves,"

Aeva nodded.

"A cold drink of water will do you good. Get yourself to the well; I'll watch the doors. Things seem to be slowing down now anyway."

An extremely grateful James nodded quickly and trotted off in the direction of the abbey well. As the brother passed by the kitchen window, a delicious aroma came from within; this was sure to be an excellent feast. James couldn't imagine a creature being in bad spirits on such a day. The mouse was right. Every Redwaller seemed to be in good spirits.

Every one, that was, except Kaiba.

In fact, the insatiable hare was feeling rather depressed. For him, feast days allowed for him to do a little more scoffing than usual, and not just during the feast. He was a notorious window sill thief. Kaiba had assumed he would have an easy time as always. Imagine his surprise when he came to the windows and found them guarded by half a dozen well armed dibbuns, who brandished sticks and wooden ladles as soon as the hare poked his nose around the corner. Thinking he could talk his way into just one pie, the garrulous creature walked up nonchalantly, smiling like an innocent dibbun. However, the guards were smarter than he'd expected.

"You bet not snitch anating," said Mulle, a young vole.

"Ya," said Sloey the hedgehog maid. "Mista Barad said we could chopov yer tail."

Kaiba stopped in front of the group and looked rather astonished.

"Did he now? Well, see here, you little ruffians; I had no intention of harming those innocent pies… those sweet, delicious pies…" Kaiba's voice trailed off as he looked longingly at the cooling pastries, so close and yet so far away. Leave it to his closest friend to thwart his scheming. Finally –and with great difficulty- the hare managed to pull his eyes away from the window sill. He sighed in defeat and looked at the group.

"Well, I wish you troops the best of luck," he saluted them. "Don't let anybeast try to bamboozle you, now. What bad form that would be, wot wot," Kaiba turned and walked away, still laughing to himself. Sloey watched him and whispered to the rest of the dibbuns.

"I told ya he was crazy."

No sooner had Sloey spoken than there was a crazed shout and Kaiba came racing back around the corner like a mad beast. Throwing aside all maturity and care, he bounded into the midst of the dibbuns with one goal in mind: get something from the window sill.

Unfortunately for the hare, Barad had recruited some extremely zealous dibbuns. Kaiba suddenly found himself in the middle of a rumpas. He was set upon with spoons and sticks and fists and finally toppled to the ground. By the time Barad and James came around the corner to see what the commotion was about, Kaiba was hidden beneath a pile of shouting dibbuns. The abbey warrior grinned and shook his head and he watched the scene. Every once in a while, Kaiba could be heard from the depths of the pile.

"Gah! Get off, you murderous fiends! OW!"

"Once a scoffbag, always a scoffbag," Barad mused to himself."Oi! Come on, now, lets not suffocate the poor beast."

The dibbuns slowly got off the hare, some rather reluctant.

"But, we had him, Mista Barad," Sloey whined. She looked at Kaiba, who was lying on the gound with one paw clutched to his heaving chest. He saw Barad and weakly raised a paw.

"Ho, there, old boy," he panted. "Care to lend a chap a paw?"

Barad raised an eyebrow.

"Well now, I'm not so sure I'm willin',"

Kaiba looked utterly crestfallen. Barad frowned.

"Now, don't gimme that look, mate. You oughta know better than ta behave like this around dibbuns. You're supposed to set an example."

Kaiba thought for a while and finally nodded. He picked himself up and brushed off the grass and dirt.

"Very well, old chap," he said. He lifted his head regally.

"My prime progeny," he said, addressing the dibbuns,"from this point on, I vow to pause in my purloining." Barad put a paw to bis forehead in bewilderment, but was ignored. "No longer will I be known as the Plunderer of Pies, but as the Preventor of all Pie Pilfering. Beware, those who would plot to lay a paw on such a precious pastry. I will pursue-"

"Alright, mate, we get the point," Barad said, cutting him off. Even in defeat, Kaiba liked to put on a show. The otter put an arm around the hare "Come on, they need help in the cellars."

As Barad pulled him away, Kaiba turned and saluted the dibbuns

"Fare well, my precocious protectors, I bid thee adieu."

Several of the dibbuns looked confused. Mulle' over to Sloey

"Yo wight, he is cwazy."

* * *

Several hours later, the feast was in full swing. The front abbey lawn was filled with rows of tables, with extra chairs set around besides even then, there was not enough room for everybeast. Creatures sat on upturned buckets and casks, or simply on the gound.

Perhaps the most amazing feature was the web of lanterns that hung overhead. A group of otters had engineered the spectacle, which was suspended by ropes and poles, and lit up the feast like a traveling circus. Underneath the web, creatures of all ages sat together and shared the bounty of the abbey.

Mum Sybil and her cooks had outdone themselves again. Food filled every possible table space. Truffles, flans, and pies; breads and cheeses; fresh vegetables and crisp autumn apples. The newly created raspberry oat bread with honey had been a soaring success: not a piece remained. Kaiba was suspected in having something to do with that, but everyone was in such good spirts that no one minded. They were just glad that Kaiba was currently the only hare residing in the abbey.

As always, elders sat among the young ones to make sure they didn't get into too much mischief. Gulli and some of his friends had already tried to steal a sugared raspberry pie. Ironically, they were foiled by none other than the most notorious pie stealer ever to set foot in Redwall. Having given up his profession of windowsill thievery, Kaiba had taken it upon himself to monitor the pastry table. Not a single baked good left without his permission.

"Now, wait just a minute there, laddybuck," he said to a very sneaky otter dibbun, "You've already had four of those creampuffs; I say we save some for the other hungry beasts, wot"

Tyla looked crushed for a moment, but then took his paw away and moved on.

Meanwhile, Sarum and Safra were seated on either side of Dinny the mouse. The dibbun had decided to fill his plate entirely with candied chestnuts and the otter twins were trying to convince him that there was more than just that to eat.

"Is that really all yer gonna have, mate?" Sarum asked, raising his eyebrows. Dinny nodded, being unable to speak properly from all the chestnuts in his mouth. Safra cocked his head skeptically.

"Are ya sure ye don't want to try anythin' else? Mum Sybil an' her cooks put alot of work inta all this food," he too was foiled by another head shake from the full-mouthed dibbun. Safra shrugged. "Alright, then I guess you'll just have to miss out on the special ingredient in this blackberry scone,"

Dinny stopped chewing and looked at Safra with wide eyes.

"Wha secet 'greden?"

Sarum looked played along and shocked.

"That's right, he don't know about the secret ingredient, do 'e, Saf?" The otter looked around quickly and lowered his voice. "We really ain't supposed ta tell no beast though, are we?"

Safra nodded, "Yeah, Mum Sybil made us promise not ta tell," he looked at Dinny. "You won't tell nobeast on us, will ye, mate?"

The dibbun hastily shook his head. Safra nodded

"Good. Well, what I hear is that there's a secret ingrediant in all of these scones."  
"And in the deeper'n'ever pie too," Sarum added. Safra nodded

"Aye. But, what this secret ingrediant does is it makes you all happy and you get to have fun and dance as long as you want. Don't that sound fun?"

By this time, Dinny had completely forgotten his chestnuts and was instead eyeing the powered scone and slice of deeper'n'ever pie on Safra's plate.

"How's 'bout we trade, huh?" the otter switched his plate for the chestnut filled one, and little Dinny was soon attacking the food like a wildbeast.

Sarum winked at Safra behind the dibbun's back.

"Secret ingredient, huh?" He chuckled. Safra shrugged.

"Care for a chestnut, mate?"

* * *

Off to the side, several large barrels of drink had been assembled in a half circle. Owen Brushback sat on a up turned keg with Barad and Abbot Mackensey nearby. The cellarhog had convinced the old mouse to sample a mug of October Ale.

"Trust me, Father," he said as he filled the container, "Ain't nothin' better for a beast than good old October Ale."

The wiry old abbot was been a bit reluctant at first.

"I really don't know Owen, it's been such a long time...oh, very well," the old mouse accepted the mug and began to slowly drink. He looked strangely confused at first, but then his eyes widened and he began to sputter. Owen had poured the mug full of new strawberry fizz! Mackensey coughed and wiped his mouth

"You're no better than a naughty dibbun,tricking an old mouse like that!"

Barad was chuckling fitfully. "He's always been a trickster, Mac, you know that. Remember the time he switched all the nighttime medicines in Sister Arvina's cupboard with strawberry fizz? Those dibbuns giggled so hard they were almost cryin'."

Mackensey nodded. "Oh, yes, I remember that; and, I believe I was the one who was sent to find you when you hid in the cellar."

Owen nodded and laughed, "Aye, an' ye never could catch me, could you?"

All three creature broke into good natured laughter, clapping each other on the back as they recounted the old days.

After the meal had finished, the assembled creatures were treated to a presentation by the Abbey school class, recounting the great fight between Redwallers and the evil rat, Cluny the Scourge. The play was going very well;unfortunately, the two mice who played Cluny and Matthias got a little too eager to use their wooden swords and began to fight each other before they were supposed to. While the play ended quite well- the battle was indeed epic- both Matthias and Cluny needed to be taken to the infirmary for several bruises and a goose egg or two. A few abbeybabes then tried to reenact the reenactment with their wooden spoons and were heavily rebuked by Rhana and Sister Emilina.

"You put those away, the lot of ye," the otter scolded, "We don't want anybeast losin' an eye."

Emilina eyed the dibbuns sternly.

"If I see anybeast wielding a spoon, any at all, it's medicine and off to bed."

The dibbuns ceased immediately; it was common knowledge that nighttime medicines were worse than bath day and early bedtime put together. No self-respecting dibbun wanted to be sent to the infirmary before bed.

The height of the evening came when a bonfire was lit and a jolly Owen Brushback took center stage. Besides being Chief Cellarhog, Owen was also known for his mandolin playing. Tonight, he was joined by his wife Matilda and their daughter Molly, who played the recorder and drum respectively. Several moles accompanied them with percussion instruments, and Foremole Buri even got out her metal spoons.

The lawn was soon filled with dancing creatures, swaying in time with the lively music. Barad spun his niece Burki around and around until she was dizzy and laughing with glee. The two then pulled Rhana into the group to share the fun. Soon, the ottermum was whooping and shrieking like a dibbun, much to the delight of her daughter and brother.

Sarum, after a great amount of coaxing and a dare from his brother, had finally gotten up the courage and asked a pretty maid to dance. However, it was not an ottermaid, but Kalen, the kitchen helper. The squirrel and the otter were a comical pair, largely making up their own dance. Safra and the rest of his friends watched from the side, laughing as the the two spun past. Sarum actually seemed to be eyjoying himself. The joke later came on Safra when Kalen pulled him into a dance as well.

It was a good night, enjoyed by all. Creatures came together and shared in a feeling of happiness that could be found nowhere else but Redwall Abbey. It put a beast at ease to know that they were surrounded by so much love and caring. It was a warm, safe feeling, like a cozy fire and a blanket on a chilly night. Such a feeling could always be found in the Abbey for anybeast who wished it.

* * *

It was dark by the time Rhana and Joren got to the dormitories. Burkina and Tyla were half asleep, plumb tuckered out from the nights festivities. The young otters curled up in their beds, still smiling from all the fun they had had, and were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

"They'll have some tales to tell when they get back, that's for sure," Joren said quietly. Rhana nodded

"Tales of strawberry fizz and Cluny the Scourge," she smiled. "Sometimes I wish we could bring the whole clan here. Can you imagine that? Poor Mum Sybil having to cook for all those otters?" Joren chuckled.

"At least we aren't from a clan of hares. _That_ would be a nightmare."

"Owen Brushback told me that he'll sent extra October Ale with us this time. He says it's the best brew he's ever seen."

"With all that food you keep wantin' ta bring back, I'll be surprised if there's any room left in the canoe. We'll just have to leave Burki and Ty behind, won't we?"

Rhana shook her head at her husband.

"There'll be room. An' you know they'd swim to get back home. They keep asking me when we're going back, and I keep telling them, two days, but they don't want to wait that long. They want to see their friends again an' tell 'em all about the great adventures they had at Redwall Abbey."

Both parents looked at their sleeping young ones. They looked so peaceful, as if nothing in the world could ever hurt them.

* * *

While Burkina and Tyla did indeed sleep peacefully, another creature was not so lucky. Abbot Mackensy lay tossing and turning, trapped in the depths of a troubling dream.

The mouse was standing on a shadowy surface of rock, surrounded by smoky, twisting shadows. There were faces in the smoke; terrible, snarling faces: rats, stoats, ferrets, foxes. All of them sneering and reaching out with twisted claws. Mackensey tried to fight them off.

"No!" he cried. "Leave me alone!" The smoke faces laughed, mocking the old mouse. "Oh, Martin, help me!" Mackensey cried.

Suddenly, the creatures did stopp. Though they never ceased to jeer and snarl, their grabbing paws dissapated. The old mouse turned and looked in fear at the sudden appariation before him. It was shrouded in a dark cloak that concealed it from the mouse's view.

"M-martin?" Mackensey stammered, "Is that you, Martin?" The creature slowly approached the old mouse, who stepped back in fear. It pushed back the cloak, revealing the fabled sword of the Abbey founder. The abbot looked relieved.

"Oh, it is you. Why are-?" Mackensey stopped abruptly. This creature was not Martin the Warrior. Bright green eyes shone out from beneath the hood of the cloak, eyes that that were soon joined by a russet muzzle. It was a fox!

Mackensey began to back away from the phantom, holding up his paws in defense.

"What do you want?"

The creature didn't reply. Instead, it continued it's advance on the abbot, raising the great sword. Mackensey suddenly felt his paw step into nothing. He stumbled backward as the ground below him gave way. The mouse screamed and grappled at the air as he plunged into darkness.

Mackensey jolted awake, breathing madly. The mouse was covered in a cold sweat and the feeling of falling still tugged at his stomach. He looked around quickly, looking for some sign of the sword wielding creature and finally reassured himself that it had all been a dream. Mackensey lay back down. He knew that Martin often spoke to or directed abbeydwellers through dreams, but this was unlike anything he had ever experienced. In fact, it frightened him. What was a fox doing with Martin's sword? A vermin had never wielded the legendary weapon; it was unheard of. Had Martin wanted him to dream this? If he had, Mackensey dearly hoped that the reason would be revealed soon.

The old mouse lay awake for what seemed like hours. Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

** I'm sorry for the whole hiatus thing. I think summer reading for school got to me.**

**I can't leave Thekka at the bottom of a ravine.**


End file.
